Read Last Night at the Blue Angel Online
Authors: Rebecca Rotert
She walks quickly then. I catch up to her, but by the time I do, she has gone someplace else in her mind. Someplace that doesn't involve me one iota.
Wait for me
, I say, but Mother is walking ahead and doesn't hear me or maybe she doesn't want to.
KANSAS, 1951
I
WAS TEN WHEN
Papa came home from Germany with a bullet in his shoulder and a shock of gray hair, and I was eleven when Mama had those twins. All I can tell you about them was that one was big and fat and the other was a runt with teeny raccoon fingers who lasted only a week. I didn't want Mama to have more babies and I thought the little one died because of me. We buried him behind the orchard, the wind trying to shred our ugly dresses while Daddy said a prayer, and then told us not to breathe a word. After that happened, Mama's mouth was set. I tried to make her laugh with my little made-up songs but she didn't.
There were seven of us. Thomas, the oldest, and then girls, girls, girls. We always had something to eat, we had shoes most of the time, we got baths on Saturday, girls first. By the time it was Thomas's turn, he just stared at that bathwater like it was slop. I heard Papa say to him once,
That water so filthy you be cleaner by staying out of it
, and they laughed with their heads touching because Papa loved Thomas more than anything.
People who live in Kansas will tell you how beautiful it is but all I can say is that in Kansas, the wind blows everything down or away, and if it can't do one of those two things, it just beats the shit out of it.
When I walked the long dirt road to school, I felt like a very small thing pushing my way along the edge of the world. The others walked in a huddle, hand in hand, but I stayed up ahead, not wanting to walk with them, not wanting to belong to them. I sometimes hoped the wind would carry them away. I walked as fast as I could. It's not that I was a cruel girl, I swear. I just had this feeling that our time together would be short.
By the time we reached the schoolhouse, we were stiff and quiet and warming up hurt worse than getting cold. I stood facing the stove, and when Sister Therese told me to sit down, I pretended not to hear her. So she grabbed my ears and bent down so our noses were almost touching.
Your sisters are good
, she said.
And Thomas is an angel. What's the matter with you? Answer me!
David Miller stood nearby with firewood in his arms. He interrupted her.
I'm going to put this in the stove
.
Sister let go of me and said,
Well, you're not going to stand there holding it all day
.
Don't pay her any mind
, he said as he passed me. He was the oldest boy in school and tall as two of me. Dark-haired and dark-eyed. Already shaving.
I looked at my sisters as I walked back to my seat and they looked at their books.
David's sister, Laura, was wearing another dress I hadn't seen before and her long black ringlets were so soft her ribbon slid right out of her hair. I dropped my pencil, and when I bent to fetch it, I took the ribbon and kept it. The girl sitting next to me saw me and raised her eyebrows, so I showed her my fist.
Laura absentmindedly touched her hair, and when she noticed the ribbon was gone, looked for it on the bench and the floor. Then she looked back at me. She had large brown eyes that looked sad even though she had nothing to be sad about. We stared at each other for a minute, and then she turned back around.
Every day like clockwork Sister Therese ran around the schoolhouse opening all the windows even though it was getting cold. She stood in front of one for several minutes, fanning herself with her lesson book. When she turned back to us, her face was flushed and damp. Once I heard her whispering to herself,
It will pass
,
it will pass
.
When Father Eugene appeared in the doorway we stood quickly and greeted him in unison. He smiled and stomped his boots, speaking with Sister Therese quietly, their backs to us, glancing a few times at Thomas.
On the way home it was Thomas walking far ahead. I caught up to him and could tell he'd been crying.
Go on
, he said, and started making longer strides.
Tell me what they said
, I yelled.
They're taking me away
.
To become a priest
.
I laughed at him. He wiped his face.
What the devil are you talking about? You're fifteen years old!
Well, that's when they take you
, barked Thomas. I realized he was telling the truth and was scared to death.
I wish they'd take me
, I said.
Easy for you to say
.
The whole family was happy and proud about Thomas.
Father Thomas
, Murielle whispered to me in bed that night.
Won't that be something?
It's horrible
.
I don't think so
, she said.
Special people can come from nowhere. Why
,
General Eisenhower was from right over in Abilene
.
A week later, Thomas was taken away empty-handed. He kissed me with his doll face.
You don't have to
, I whispered to him.
We can run away
.
But all he did was blink.
A
fter Thomas left, Papa took the older girls out of school to work on the farm. But not me. Mama told him I was too mean and lazy to be of any use there.
Let the nuns deal with her
, she had said.
My sisters became strong and lean, darker than me, and it was not hard to imagine them stuck in that filthy, tired life until they were like old swaybacked mares.
W
HILE SISTER THERESE
was having one of her fever moments at an open window, I stole an arrowhead from the Land of Kansas diorama. She turned around just in time to catch me and put me in the corner for a week. The Monday my punishment was to end I went to school early with the head of an old hammer and a fistful of nails in my skirt pocket, and I angled the nails into every last window. Laura and David, because they were always the first ones to school, saw me doing this and smiled at each other. I raised the hammer up in the air, shook it like Sister did with her ruler, and they laughed again. Standing in front of them like that, their eyes on me, made me feel like I belonged to them, like I was one of them, like I was worth somethingâand I loved it so. I had stumbled upon the key to my happiness.
That afternoon when Sister Therese went hot and ran for the window, she couldn't get it open. So she tried the next one and then the next one until she finally said,
I am fed up with this!
and ran out of the schoolhouse.
Laura turned around to look at me with those big eyes and I said,
Yes?
She continued to stare at me for the longest time, barely smiling.
You are terrible
, she whispered.
I wished I had something clever to say but I went blank, her face so close to mine. I learned two things that day: one, you ought not let yourself love a person until they've seen just how bad you are, and two, I loved Laura Miller.
S
ister Therese's replacement was a novice all the way from Atchison.
Hello, children
, she said, standing in front of the class. She had a large mouth and puffy green eyes, like she'd been crying or was just very tired.
Where's Sister Therese?
asked Laura.
God needs her for other things right now
, said the new nun.
I made a noise. Not a laugh exactly.
What does God want from you?
said the new nun, looking right at me.
That will be our question
, she said, turning to the rest of the class.
She flipped through Sister Therese's lesson books and asked us where we were. We looked at one another. The older kids had a lot to say about what the younger ones were learning and then they argued about what they were studying. Laura and I didn't say anything because everyone was already talking at once. The conversation made the new nun rub her fingers under her coif where it seemed to be squeezing her forehead.
Maybe we should draw
, she said as she pulled out a roll of brown paper and colored chalks. We covered our long tables with the paper and began to draw.
Laura was working very hard on a small drawing of a house when I reached forward and slid my finger into one of her long curls. It felt so soft as I dipped it very gently into my inkwell. The ink dripped on my hands and my desk and then onto her dress.
When she noticed she spun around and looked at me, hurt. The girl sitting next to us told on me and the new nun approached, looking down at us with her arms crossed.
You must be Naomi
, she said. I looked down at my drawing, which was every color combined to make brown, and waited for her to strike me or send me to the corner.
She reached her hand toward me; I braced myself.
I'm Idalia. Sister Idalia
, she said, and waited for me to shake her hand.
I slowly lifted my hand toward hers. She shook it gently. Her hand was rough and cold. I tried to pull my hand away but she pulled it toward her and then bent over it. She turned my fingers this way and that. They were stained black.
She moved my hand so that it was in front of my face.
You're not very good at this
,
you know
, she said.
The whole class was turned and staring.
So
, I said.
SO you might not have much of an aptitude for naughtiness. That's all I'm saying
.
Then she looked at Laura and smiled, taking her by the hand. I looked at their hands holding and felt my bones clamp down on themselves, tightening like a spring.
Let's get you cleaned up
, she said to Laura as they walked away. I feared I'd lost Laura for good.
T
he next day we spent practicing music for Mass. Sister separated us into several parts and began to teach us about harmony. Then she put her hands together in front of her chest and closed her eyes.
Lord Jesus
,
please bring us a piano
.
Surely someone has one they're not using
. Then she clapped her hands and said,
Let's go back to Attende Domine
.
We sang:
“O Attende Domine
,
et miserere
,
quia peccavimus tibi,”
which meant “Have mercy on us, oh God, for we have sinned against You,” or something like that.
When we were done one of the boys asked,
What are we saying?
Sister Idalia thought about this. She smiled and said,
It's Latin for
“
I am a child of God. I am loved. I am perfect just as I am
,” and then she kept on smiling like she was proud of something. It was a giant smile and she had a gap between her front teeth. I liked her so much already and I liked singing, and I loved Laura. All of these things in combination made me feel untethered, unable to protect myself, or worried that I'd forgotten how.
I leaned in behind Laura.
How come your brother hasn't been in school?
I asked.
He's working with my father at the bank
, she said.
I tried to imagine David with his hair combed, counting dollars.
He is really good at numbers
, I said.
He loves arithmetic more than anything
, she said.
I was close enough to smell her breath. It smelled like hard candy.
I hate arithmetic
, I said.
Laura giggled.
I noticed
.
The fire went low, so one of the boys got up to fetch some wood. He was small and wiry. I stuck my foot out and tripped him. He scrambled back up and looked at me but he was little and too afraid to say anything.
Are you all right
,
Clyde?
said Sister Idalia. He nodded and ran off.
Naomi
, she said,
come sit by me
.
I stared at her and walked slowly to her desk, keeping my arms folded across my chest as I often did because I had breasts and the other girls my age didn't have them yet. I wanted to explain myself to Sister. All of the feelings were right there under my skin but I didn't have the words for them. I sat down next to her on her little bench.
There we go
, she said.
We sang some more. Not just chants. Other songs, too. When I was singing I didn't want to hurt anyone. Singing made me warm from the inside out, like a lightbulb.
T
HE NEXT DAY
, as we were gathering our books to leave, Sister said,
Can you stay after?
I looked around me. She smiled.
You're not in trouble. I want to share something with you
. She took my hand and we walked into the little room built onto the side of the schoolhouse. There was a bedroll, a crate of canned food, a small plug-in burner, a box of books, and a little stove. It was hardly big enough for the two of us to stand in and of course it was freezing.
You live here?
I asked.
Mm-hmm
, she said, smiling, like it was good news.
I can't wait for you to hear this
, she said. She cleared a plate and a cup and a book off the top of a tall narrow cabinet and pulled a key on a string from her tunic. Bending over, she stuck the key into a tiny lock on the lid and opened it. There was a record player inside. She tucked the key on the string back in her tunic.
Do you have a record player at home?
We have a radio
, I said.
I like
The Shadow.
She lifted a record out of its sleeve and placed it on the black disc. The sleeve said “The Boswell Sisters” across the top and there were three women dressed as sailors sitting in a boat.
SHOUT, SISTER, SHOUT
! was written on the boat. Crackling sounds filled the small room, then this beautiful burst of several voices sounding like one. It made me want to cry and dance all at once. My ears had never heard anything like it. I actually touched my ears, the sound was that strange and that beautiful.