The Son of Someone Famous (8 page)

“Sure,” I said.

“Then we're really going steady?”

“Sure.”

“Nothing Power!” Brenda Belle said. “What a neat idea!”

“We'll start a campaign,” I said. “We'll give Nothing Power to everyone who's miserable.”

“We'll write a mash note to Ella Early from anonymous,” she said.

“We'll tell that crabby bus driver he's great!” I said.

“You mean Rufus Kerin?” she said.

“Sure. Is that his name, the one who always shouts, ‘Have your money ready, dumbbells!'?”

“That's Rufus! Oh my Glory, no one's ever had a kind word for Rufus Kerin!”

“We'll shower him with affection,” I said. “We'll fawn over him!”

“And Marilyn Pepper, because she has acne so bad!”

“Absolutely!” I said.

“We're going steady,” she said. “This is the happiest Christmas of my entire life!”

“You have Nothing Power!” I said.

“You have to give me something,” she said. “A ring or something. What do you have?”

The telephone rang.

“Just a minute,” I said as I went out to the kitchen to answer the phone. I lifted the receiver and a man's voice said, “Is your grandfather Charlie Blessing?”

“Yes,” I said. “Is he all right?”

“He's got a load on, but he's all right. We threw him in a cab. He's broke. He owes a bar bill of a little over eight bucks.”

“Who is this?” I said.

“This is Sampson's Bar on Swift Avenue. The old man's
been sopping it up for hours. We threw him in a cab.”

“I hope you didn't
throw
him in a cab,” I said. “I hope you walked him gently to a cab, since he was your customer!”

“Some customer!” the man said. “He owes a bar bill here!”

“So what?” I said. “You sold him the booze on credit, didn't you?”

“Look, buddy, we didn't have to take care of Charlie. We could have left him to freeze in a snowdrift, wouldn't be the first time he's slept outdoors, but it's Christmas Eve, so we thought we'd help the old—”

“Thanks and go to hell!” I hollered. I was still shaking after I slammed down the receiver.

Behind me, Brenda Belle said, “Who did you say that to?”

“A good Samaritan,” I said snidely. “My grandfather's coming home in a taxi. I have to get some money ready.”

“Is he drunk again?”

“Why the hell do you have to say that?” I said. “He could have been run over, or had a heart attack—any number of reasons!”

“It's just that he's often drunk,” Brenda Belle said.

“You're like everyone else in this stinking town!” I said. “The damn bartender gives him drinks on credit, lets him get soused, then looks down on him because he gets drunk! And
you
say right off the bat that he's loaded!”

“I didn't say it,” she said. “I asked it. . . . What do
I
care if Charlie's drunk again? I'm not completely sober myself.”

“DON'T CALL MY GRANDFATHER BY HIS
FIRST NAME!” I shouted. “And don't say drunk
again.
” I slumped down in the kitchen chair. “Look,” I said, “if we're going to establish Nothing Power around here, it begins at home, like charity. . . . My poor grandfather.”

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I am. I hope Dr. Blessing is all right.”

“I'm just glad Billie Kay isn't here,” I said.

“I'm really sorry,” Brenda Belle said. “Are we still going steady?”

“Yes,” I said, “but try to think before you shoot off your big mouth again.”

“I intend to,” said Brenda Belle.

When a horn honked in the yard, I reached for my coat. The two-fifty I had left over from my weekly allowance was in the pocket. I'd been planning to buy something for my grandfather with it, a bottle of good wine or some expensive pipe tobacco. I grabbed the money and went out to pay for the taxi. So much for his Christmas remembrance, I told myself. He'd been insisting he didn't want anything anyway.

My grandfather was all dressed up. He had on a double-breasted pin-striped suit that had seen better days, a blue shirt with a round white collar, a polka-dot tie and a black wool scarf. His coat didn't match his outfit: he was wearing a short plaid lumber jacket.

“You didn't have to come out and meet me, A.J.,” he said, ignoring the fact that the driver was waiting to be paid. “Go back to your guest. I'll be no trouble.” He was talking in that strange, stilted way he'd written the note.

I shoved the money at the cab driver. “Enough?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. Then he turned and said, “Charlie, want me to help you in?”

“Help me?” my grandfather said, as though he'd received a slap in the face. “I'm not in my grave yet.”

“I didn't mean that, Charlie,” the driver said. “I meant you had a little too much Christmas cheer.”

“Nonsense,” said my grandfather. He stepped out of the cab and made his way stiffly across the yard, weaving slightly.

I waved the taxi driver on and went alongside my grandfather to take his arm. He shook my hand away. “Do you think I'm an incompetent, too?”

“No, sir. I was just helping you.”

“Well, I happen to hate help!”

“Yes, sir. I won't help you then.”

“I don't hate helping but I hate help. Is that clear?”

“Perfectly,” I said.

I opened the door and he walked into the kitchen, standing before Brenda Belle, swaying a bit like some tall Georgia pine shaking in the breeze.

“Why, Faith!” he said.

“Welcome to Time Tunnel,” I said to Brenda Belle. “Welcome to the Distant Past.”

“Hello, Dr. Blessing,” Brenda Belle said.

“You and Hank know how to laugh,” my grandfather said, “and that's more important than anything else. Millie never makes him laugh. She doesn't have that gift.”

Then my grandfather walked into the living room,
stretched out on the couch in his coat, and passed out.

I walked Brenda Belle up the hill to her house.

“I'm sorry Christmas Eve had to be cut short,” I said.

“He called it a gift,” Brenda Belle said. “Making someone laugh is a gift. I never thought of that.”

“He liked your father a lot,” I said.

“I'll bet he didn't like my mother.”

“He doesn't dislike your mother. . . . He just said your father and your aunt laughed a lot together.”

“Boy, I bet that really made my mother mad,” Brenda Belle said.

“I don't know,” I said.

Then she said, “Be thinking about what you're going to give me to prove we're going steady. Ty Hardin gave Christine Cutler his football letter, and a little gold football she wears on a chain.”

“I'll be thinking,” I said.

“I'm going to work on a mash note for Ella Early, too.” Brenda Belle giggled and squeezed my arm. “Nothing Power is the greatest invention since sliced bread!” she said.

“It'll have to be our Christmas gift to each other,” I told her, “because I'm flat broke.”

“Merry Christmas,” Brenda Belle said. We were in front of her door. “Merry Christmas and a real Nothing New Year!”

Notes for a Novel by B.B.B.

“I don't see how you can be going steady so suddenly,” my mother said. “Nothing happened last night, did it, Brenda Belle?”

I realized a strange thing when she said that: Adam and I hadn't even kissed.

“Nothing like
that
,” I said. ‘‘We just kissed.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I'm sure.”

“You were very talkative when you came in,” my mother said.

“What has that got to do with anything?”

“Well, you mentioned that you had a little punch. Are you sure you
remember
everything that happened?”

“Mother,” I said, “we didn't have sex. I'd have remembered that.”

“Don't say that, Brenda Belle!”

“What? Don't say what?”

“S-e-x,” my mother said.

“We didn't have relations,” I said. “We didn't make o-u-t.”

“No one buys the cow if he can get the milk free,” my mother said.

“Thanks a lot,” I said. “Mooooooo.”

“I'm sorry, dear. It's just that I'm a little bewildered. He didn't even give you a Christmas gift, did he?”

“He will,” I lied. I planned to buy myself a box of candy in Corps and say Adam gave it to me.

“And what about your gift for him?” she said.

“I'm going to give him a plant,” I said.

That was sort of true, even though it wasn't a plant yet. It was still a sweet potato. I decided to take it right down to him without being asked, because I was afraid that if I called, he'd say not to come. I didn't completely trust Nothing Power yet, and I wanted to see Billie Kay Case again.

I arrived about two thirty that Christmas afternoon.

Dr. Blessing answered the door. “Come in,” he said. “Are you a friend of Adam's?”

He didn't even remember our meeting the night before.

“I'm Adam's girlfriend,” I said. “Brenda Belle Blossom.”

“Of course,” he said. “You look a lot like your Aunt Faith. . . . Adam's on the phone, talking to his father,” he said as we walked through the kitchen. I could see Adam standing over near the refrigerator, hunched over the telephone receiver.

“Come in and meet Mrs. Waite,” Dr. Blessing said.

“That's all right,” I said. “I know who she really is. Adam told me all about being her neighbor.”

Billie Kay Case smiled up at me as I entered the living room.

“Well, hi, Betty Belle,” she said.

“Brenda Belle,” I said. “Is that Janice?”

“Yes, dis is my little snookums, Danice,” she said. She was holding this Siamese cat that was trying hard to get away. There were scratches on her arm. “Little Danice is afwaid of trangers,” she said. The cat spat at her. She slapped its nose.

Dr. Blessing was walking around the room wearing the same suit and tie he'd had on the night before. He kept clearing his throat nervously and frowning across at Billie Kay and her cat.

There was a certain amount of tension in the room, but I couldn't figure out what was causing it.

I said, “You two go right on talking. Don't mind me.”

“We weren't talking,” Billie Kay said. “Dr. Blessing doesn't have a lot to say to me.”

“That's not quite true,” Dr. Blessing said.

From the kitchen I could hear Adam say, “I don't care if your package is late. Stop apologizing, Dad.”

Billie Kay Case told Dr. Blessing, “Well, if it's not quite true that you don't have anything to say to me, by all means say what you have to say. You seem to be building up to something.”

“I'm not building up to anything,” Dr. Blessing said.

“I'm getting bad vibes,” Billie Kay said. “I've only been here half an hour and I'm getting bad vibes already.” She was still trying to handle the Siamese, holding it down like her hand was a weight.

“I've seen a few of your old movies,” I said. “My Aunt
Faith is a real fan of yours.”

“You look a lot like your Aunt Faith,” Dr. Blessing told me again.

The cat jumped out of Billie Kay's grasp, ran toward the curtains and climbed them. Billie Kay ran after her.

Then Dr. Blessing snapped. “Leave her
alone
!”

“Wh-what?” Billie Kay turned around and stared at him, as though she'd never been spoken to that way in all her life.

“I said leave her
alone
!”

“I heard what you said but I don't believe my own ears,” Billie Kay said. She was wearing this red velvet pants suit and her face was turning a matching shade of red.

From the kitchen, Adam was saying, “Dad, I didn't expect you to come here. I
know
you're busy!”

Dr. Blessing was facing Billie Kay, his own face red, too. His hands were balled to fists at his side, and his voice shook as he spoke. “All right!” he said. “I'll say what I have to say! A cat owner who has scratches on her arms shouldn't own a cat! A cat doesn't scratch unless it's being hurt or terrified! A cat—”

Billie Kay didn't let him finish. “Now you listen to me, Mr. Know-It-All! These little scratches are from the game that Janice and I play! I tickle her stomach and she scratches.”