The Son of Someone Famous (17 page)

Dr. Blessing answered the door wearing his new sport coat, plus a scarf knotted around his neck like an ascot.

“Come on in, Brenda Belle,” he said. “I'm busy packing. Close the door after you.”

I said, “You must be excited about going to the coast.”

“I don't get excited at my age,” he said, racing around carrying shirts and socks from a bureau in the living room to a suitcase on the couch.

“Are you leaving so early? I thought Adam said he was leaving the thirteenth?”

“The thirteenth isn't far away,” he said.

“It's five days away.”

“I have to be all packed,” he said.

“Is Adam packing this early?”

“Adam isn't packing. Adam isn't going.”

“Why isn't Adam going?”

“Adam's on probation, Brenda Belle. Where have you been?”

I said, “I didn't know.”

“He can't go anywhere. Hand me my spritzer.”

“Your what?”

“My spritzer, my spritzer. Over there.”

I handed him the glass he pointed to.

“What's a spritzer?”

“It's wine with soda,” he said. “Billie Kay Case drinks them. The soda dilutes the wine so you don't get too much wine.”

He drank what was in the glass in one gulp.

“You mean you're going but Adam isn't?” I said. “I thought Adam was going because of something to do with his father.”

“He can't go, but I'm going, anyway . . . on business.”

He went into the kitchen and made himself another spritzer. I saw the sweet potato plant on the window. The water was brown.

I said, “You have to change the water or this plant will die.”

“
I
don't have to change it,” he said. “I have to pack.”

I took off my coat and changed the water in the plant. I cut off the brown leaves and turned the new sprouts toward the light.

Dr. Blessing was rushing around singing, “Hel-lo from Hol-ly-wood” and making more spritzers as he packed. Each new drink was darker in color. He was ordering me to
hand him this and fetch him that, and I finally said, “When exactly do you expect Adam?”

“He'll be along. Fold that sweater for me.”

“Listen, I am not the maid,” I said.

He wasn't paying any attention to what I said, so I finally sat down and wrote Adam a note.

Dear Adam, I'm returning your ring because Nothing Power is a flop, but I want to be friends. Friends should tell things to each other, like why is your father's last initial not a B? Does “probation” mean you can't go to the dance, or do you want to escort a friend to it? You owe me that. BBB.

While I was putting the ring and the note on top of Adam's Latin notebook, the phone rang.

“I'll be leaving now,” I said. “There's something there for Adam.”

As I went out the door, Dr. Blessing was telling someone who had telephoned that he did not care what the dog's temperature was, that he had more important things to worry about than an animal's temperature.

When I got back to my house, I could see my mother and my aunt sitting in the living room. I got this idea to sneak in the back door, go down on all fours, crawl toward the living room, and then spring out at them like the girl in
Teen-age Vampire.

I made it as far as the dining room, when I caught the drift of their conversation and stopped in my tracks.

“Annabell Blessing never married a man that famous,” my mother was saying. “I can't remember his name, but he was a nobody, a lawyer of some kind from New York.”

“Way back then he was,” said my aunt. “He could have
become
famous.”

“Not that famous, Faith!”

“The initials are the same, Millie, and that would also explain Billie Kay Case's arrival at Christmas. She was his second wife, and she must have been the boy's stepmother!”

“I, for one, don't believe it,” said my mother. “Not that boy living down there with Charlie, tying those beer cans to the Christmas tree!”

“After all, Millie, a former neighbor doesn't travel to Vermont for Christmas, but a stepmother would!”

“I don't want Brenda Belle to know anything about this conversation,” said my mother. “I don't want to dig up old bones. I doubt the Cutler child knows anything about her father and Annabell Blessing.”

My Aunt Faith said, “Oh, very few know that. Doc Hendricks saw to that for Charlie's sake, when he was called in as coroner. Doc even testified that Annabell was alone in the car, testified to an untruth.”

“Told a lie that Annabell was alone in the car! Perjured himself!” said my mother. “Ted Cutler walked away from that accident without a scratch to his body or his reputation!”

“What good would it have done, Millie, if Doc
had
let the truth be known? It would only have done harm to everyone!”

My mother said, “Annabell Blessing and Ted Cutler
should have thought of that when they tried to run off like that! Both of them married to other people, both with small children. Disgusting!”

“And water over the dam,” said my aunt.

“If that boy
is
Annabell's son, I wonder if
he
knows his mother was killed trying to run off with Ted.”

“I'm sure he doesn't,” said my aunt.

“For the son of someone that famous,” said my mother, “he's certainly unimpressive, living down there with Charlie.”

I stood up at the pause in that conversation, and tiptoed back through the kitchen, and out the door . . . the same way I'd come in, except nothing was really going to be the same again. I knew that much.

From the Journal of A.

I remember something my father once told me about the word “crisis,” when it's written in Chinese. It's composed of two characters: One represents danger and the other represents opportunity.

That was certainly true of my probation crisis.

On the one hand Dr. Baird summoned me to his office after my scene in English, and told me that if I was absent from a class, or late for a class, if I misbehaved in a class, or flunked another test—
fini
. “You are now on probation, Adam,” he said, “and you are in danger of being expelled.”

On the other hand, as I walked away from his office, two people were waiting for me at the end of the hall. One was Marlon Fredenberg. The other was Christine.

“Adam,” she said, “Marlon's my good friend. We can talk in front of Marlon. Is everything okay? What did Mr. Baird say?”

“For one thing, I'm supposed to stay away from you,” I said. “Your father's orders.”

“I know about that,” she said. “That's why Marlon's with me. We can just walk along and talk, like I'm really with Marlon.”

“And I'm on probation,” I said. Then I told her the rest while the three of us walked out to the parking lot where Marlon's old Chevy was. I was so shook up, it barely registered with me that Christine wasn't playing games with me any longer, that she was actually concerned, that we were actually having a serious conversation. Marlon didn't say anything. He just walked along with us, like he was our guard, blocking us from any interference, as he protected teammates during football games on Saturday afternoons.

We drove around Storm for about an hour, talking all the time.

“What's the
matter
with your father?” I asked Christine. “Why is he so dead set against me?”

“I can't really figure it out,” she said. “Part of it's because he really resents your grandfather telling everyone he stole the business from him.”

“My grandfather never told me that,” I said.

“He told other people that,” she said, “and it really isn't fair. After your Aunt Annabell's accident, my father ran the Storm Animal Shelter single-handed. Charlie was drinking. My father only drew a small salary—he gave the rest to Charlie, for years. He finally bought Charlie out because Charlie wasn't doing any of the work.”

“Don't call him Charlie,” I said. “That hasn't got anything to do with me, even if it is true.”

“I know that,” Christine said, “but he doesn't know anything about you. Then he got this strange card, about remembering someone he left behind. He has the idea you sent it.”

“Why?” I said.

She said, “I don't know. Maybe he thinks the someone refers to Charlie. Maybe he thinks you're trying to tell him he left Charlie behind. He won't talk about it.”

Marlon said, “I have to have the car back by four thirty. My mother's going to Burlington.”

“We have an idea, Adam,” Christine said. “See what you think about it.”

This is where the “opportunity” came into the picture.

Christine said we could see each other with Marlon “fronting” for us. Marlon would call for her and take her home, but her date would really be with me.

We began to make plans, and before long we were all three laughing and anticipating the scheme like it was a fabulous adventure we were about to embark on. We made a vow to keep it a secret from everyone else; as far as everyone else was concerned, Christine would be going with Marlon. The only time we'd make an exception would be when Marlon wanted to date someone: She'd have to be let in on the scheme, because she'd have to pose as my date.

“Let's make our first date the Valentine dance,” Christine said.

Marlon said, “We can't. The team plays Stowe that Saturday. I won't be back in Storm until around eleven that night.”

Basketball was not the big thing football was at Storm High, but we had a team, of sorts, and Marlon was a basketball star, too.

Christine looked disappointed for a while, and then her
eyes brightened.

“It doesn't matter,” she said. “It's a costume ball. Adam can wear a disguise and pretend he's you, Marlon.”

“What if your father recognizes my voice when I pick you up?” I said.

“There has to be a way around that,” Christine said. “Think of a disguise that makes it impossible for you to talk.”

“A dummy of some kind,” said Marlon.

“Something or someone that doesn't speak,” Christine said.

“Someone without a head,” I said.

“Mary, Queen of Scots,” said Marlon.

I said, “I'm not going in drag.”

“
I
know!” Christine said. “Sir Walter Raleigh!
He
was beheaded! You can wear a costume that completely covers your face, carry this head, and have this muddy cloak with you that Raleigh put down for Queen Elizabeth!”

We settled on Sir Walter.

I felt Christine's hand sneak into mine and we held hands hard while Marlon drove me to my grandfather's.

The first thing I did when I got inside was place a long distance call to my father. I waited for him to explode when I announced that I was on probation, but after I was finished telling him about it, he said, “Well, maybe it's a godsend.”

“What?” I said.

“I may have to make a trip, anyway,” he said. “What about the wedding?”

“We had a lot to drink last night, A.J.”

“Oh,” I said. “Is there going to be a wedding?”

“It isn't firm,” he said.

Then he said, “How did you manage to get into difficulty so fast, A.J.? You set a record this time.”

“I'm going to be all right from now on,” I said. “Don't worry about me.”

He said, “A.J.? I may have to make a trip. Some mail addressed to me may come care of you at that address. Just hang on to it. I'll be in touch.”

I should have perceived the fact that that was a strange arrangement, but that afternoon very little seemed to register but the fact that Christine had come my way, and who my father was had nothing to do with it.

My grandfather went ahead with his plan to visit Billie Kay. He changed in the next few days, and I changed, too. We began to get in each other's way and talk at each other instead of with each other. I didn't discuss Christine with him, but one night when he was loading himself up on these spritzers Billie Kay had taught him to drink, I managed to question him about his feud with Christine's father.

“Did he or didn't he steal your business?” I said.

“He was responsible,” he answered.

“Didn't he run your business, though, and pay you most of the profit?”

“Do you know how the Puritans used to eat dinner?” he said.

“Stick to the subject,” I said.

“They ate at a trestle table,” he said. “The younger children stood near the foot and didn't speak, and the master of the house sat at the head. Just pretend there's a trestle table between us.”