The Sound of Life and Everything (4 page)

BOOK: The Sound of Life and Everything
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5

Thursday night found me and Daddy watching
Dragnet
in the living room. Daddy might have thought that teal toasters were stupid, but as soon as Mr. Leavitt had introduced him to the television, that was all she wrote. Daddy said it reminded him of listening to the radio with Gramps, but Mama called the television “the demise of imagination.”

I tuned in to NBC while Daddy got settled in his armchair. Daniel used to be the official tuner in the family, but after the war ended, Daddy gave me the job. He said he'd just been waiting for my fingers to get strong enough, but I knew he'd been hoping that Daniel would come home. I'd been hoping that, too.

Mama poked her head in as the picture glowed to life. “Is
I Love Lucy
on?”

I crinkled my nose. “
I Love Lucy
is on Mondays. It's
Dragnet
tonight.”

Mama grunted. “Really, Jed? I thought we both agreed that Ella Mae's too sensitive.”

“You think everyone's too sensitive,” I said as I spread out on the rug.

Daddy held up his hands. “One more episode won't hurt.”

Mama rolled her eyes. “At least sit on the couch!” she hollered at me over her shoulder. “You're too old to let folks get a look at your bloomers.”

With a heavy sigh, I retreated to the couch, one of Auntie Mildred's lumpy hand-me-downs. Sergeant Friday's badge flashed across the screen, and then his voice boomed through the living room: “The story you are about to see is true. The names have been changed to protect the innocent.” I tried to focus on his monologue about the evening's case, but the words got mixed up in my brain. I must have been too busy being sensitive about being sensitive.

“You can stop pouting,” Daddy said when the show cut to commercials. “She said you could watch.”

“I'm too old for fishin' and for lyin' on the floor. Now I'm too sensitive for
Dragnet
?”

“She didn't mean it like that, Ella Mae.”

I glowered. “Yes, she did.”

He didn't disagree.

“I didn't make it up, you know. I really saw a Japanese man.”

“I'm sure you did,” Daddy said.

“So why don't you believe me?”

Daddy shifted awkwardly. “I believe that you believe. Isn't that enough?”

“No,” I said, “it ain't.”

The advertisements ended, and so did our conversation. I'd learned months ago not to interrupt the sergeant. But just because I couldn't say the words out loud didn't make them go away. They swam around inside my head like a school of restless salmon, too slippery to catch but too tickly to ignore.

• • •

Friday afternoon found me and Theo walking home from school together. I still hadn't told him about the Japanese man, even though we walked home every day (except when it was raining). I liked these days best, when the air was warm but not hot, dry but not dusty. We were still several blocks from home, but I could already smell Mr. McConnell's orange grove.

“Did you see Rusty's hair?” I asked. “It looked like someone slathered a pound of Brylcreem on his head.”

“Oh, was that Brylcreem?” Theo shuddered. “It looked like slime to me.”

That made me think of the Japanese man, and
that
made me shudder involuntarily, too. I was trying to decide if keeping him a secret was still the best course of action when a bicycle bell dinged behind us. I didn't have to turn around to know that it was Gracie.

“Theo!” she yelled. “Ella Mae! I need to talk to you!”

We exchanged a solemn look, then, by unspoken agreement, turned around. We could have outrun her if she'd been on foot, but we were no match for Gracie's bicycle. Mama had once offered to teach her how to drive, but after Auntie Mildred argued, loudly, Gracie had assured us that she preferred to ride. Auntie Mildred wasn't fond of Gracie's bicycle, either, but apparently, riding bicycles was more ladylike than driving cars.

Gracie was breathing hard as she rolled to a stop. “Mama wanted me to tell you that she's almost out of jam, so if Auntie Anna has leftovers, Mama would appreciate a loan.”

Auntie Mildred's orange marmalade had always been my favorite, but when she sold her soul to Betty Crocker, she'd also given up canning. Now we were stuck with Mama's strawberry, which tasted just fine if you could get past all the seeds.

“I'll pass the word along,” I said.

Gracie set her sights on Theo. “And she asked me to remind you about your dentist's appointment. You've got to leave for Santa Ana in the next twenty-five minutes.”

Theo made a face. “I was hopin' she'd forget.”

“Fat chance,” I replied as I nudged him with my elbow. “Auntie Mildred never forgets
anything.

“Tell me about it,” Theo said.

We were still just standing there, not leaving, when Theo dragged a hand under his nose. His elbow swung so wide that it whacked me in the shoulder.

I grabbed my arm. “Hey, watch it!”

Theo didn't apologize, though his eyes did widen. We'd been cousins long enough that I knew exactly what he meant.

“I mean,” I said, dropping my hand, “Theo can't go to the dentist because he already promised that he'd help me with my times tables.”

Gracie arched an eyebrow. I was usually much better at lying; she'd just caught me off guard. But before I could lay the grease on even thicker, Gracie said, “All right.”

Theo sagged with relief.

“But I'm coming with you,” she went on after glancing at her watch. “When Theo has to go, I'll help you finish up.”

I started to protest, but Theo elbowed me again. Reluctantly, I shut my trap. He'd always been a pacifist, and heaven forbid that I should fight his battles for him.

Gracie trailed along behind us for the last couple of blocks, dipping her head at Mrs. Olsen and blushing when Patrick Temple winked at her from the other side of the street. By the time we made it to our picket fence, Mr. McConnell's orange blossoms didn't smell nearly as sweet.

I yanked Theo through the gate. “We'll only be a second!” I hollered back at Gracie. With any luck, another boy would pedal down the street, and she'd lose track of the time.

But it didn't look like Gracie was in the mood to be sidetracked. “I'll be right behind you,” she replied, leaning her bicycle against the fence.

I hustled him into the house. If Gracie expected me to hold the door open for her, she had another thing coming. I wasn't one of her lovesick lackeys. We tumbled into the kitchen, where Mama was on the telephone.

“—speakin' to her,” she was saying, twisting the cord around her hand, adding curlicues to curlicues. But then her hand went still. “How did you get this number?”

The chilliness in Mama's voice made me miss a step.

“Well, of course she did,” Mama said, “but that doesn't mean I've taken charge of anything!”

I suspected the
she
was Auntie Mildred, but I couldn't have said for sure. As we edged closer to Mama, Theo's shoe squeaked on the linoleum, and Mama whirled around. Her eyes bulged when she spotted him.

“Get him out of here!” she roared. She'd pressed a hand over the mouthpiece, but it probably hadn't done much good.

Stunned, I staggered back, dragging Theo with me. The last time I'd heard Mama roar like that, she'd just found out that Daniel wouldn't be coming home. We crashed into Gracie as we stumbled onto the porch, but Mama didn't stop herding us. Once our toes were clear of the door, she slammed it shut in our faces.

“What's her problem?” Theo asked.

I made a show of shrugging. Her reaction had affected me, but I wasn't about to let it show. “I think she just needs a nap.”

Gracie saw through my nonchalance. “Is there something we can do?”

“Oh, I think you've done enough.” The sooner I got rid of Gracie and her well-intentioned meddling, the sooner I could find out what was going on. “Thanks for comin' over.”

Gracie grabbed the railing. “But what about your times tables?”

“I can do 'em on my own.” I couldn't bring myself to look at Theo. “Hope the dentist doesn't kill you.”

He knotted his arms across his chest. “It'll be your fault if he does.”

Gracie only made it halfway down the walk before she realized he wasn't with her. “Theo, are you coming?”

“Yeah, I'll be right there.” But as soon as Gracie turned around, he turned back to me. “Ella Mae, what's goin' on? Who was your mama talkin' to?”

I opened my mouth to answer, then snapped it shut again. “I don't know,” I admitted, and it was even mostly true.

“Come on,” Theo said, dropping his voice. “You can lie to Gracie, but you can't lie to me.”

“It's true,” I said, because it was. When he still just stood there waiting, I shoved him down the stairs. If I'd gone this long without telling him about the Japanese man, I could go a little longer. “Don't want to keep the dentist waiting.”

He didn't look like he believed me, but I didn't give him time to argue, just hurried back inside. I was itching to hear what they were saying, but Mama had already hung up (though the cord hadn't stopped swinging).

“Who was that?” I asked.

“It was Miss Kendall,” Mama said, “Dr. Franks's secretary. She said they want us to come back.”

I sneered. “Of course they do.”

Mama's fingers curled around the counter. “I told her we would.”

“But why?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“She said they've had some sort of breakthrough.” Mama drew a shaky breath. “Not that she would tell me what the breakthrough
was,
but she made it sound like they found Robby.”

6

We picked up Auntie Mildred first thing Saturday
morning. She was waiting for us on her porch, clutching her purse like a life preserver. The rain dripping from the eaves softened her rough edges.

“This is it,” she said as she climbed into our Studebaker. “I can feel it.”

I didn't bother to point out that she'd probably thought the same thing last week.

It took longer than it should have to reach the old highway. The rain turned the landscape gray and drizzly, reducing the San Bernardinos to distant blobs and muffling all but the hypnotic swishing of our tires on the wet road. Mama hated driving slow, but she must have hated the thought of wrecking Daddy's Studebaker even more. When we pulled into the parking lot of Ingolstadt Laboratories, we were fifteen minutes late.

Auntie Mildred didn't wait for Mama to turn off the engine, just jumped out of the car as soon as it rolled to a stop (or maybe slightly before). When I didn't go as fast as she wanted me to, Auntie Mildred grabbed my wrist and towed me into the lobby. Her gloves felt slick, like sweaty hands.

The secretary beamed at our approach. “What can I do for you?” she asked as we scurried across the shiny tiles. She wasn't the same secretary who'd been here the week before.

Auntie Mildred licked her lips. “We're here to talk to Dr. Franks.”

The secretary consulted her appointment book. “Oh, you must be Mrs. Higbee.”

“Actually, I'm Mrs. Clausen.”

“Oh, yes, Mrs. Clausen. I have your name right here.” The secretary bit her lip. “Now, as I'm sure you've guessed, I'm going to need to see ID.”

Mama produced her driver's license while Auntie Mildred fumbled for her water bill. I caught a glimpse of the postmark as she passed it to the secretary, but neither of them seemed to notice it was more than a month old. I kept that tidbit to myself. If Auntie Mildred's ID was no good, they might not let us past the guards, and I might never solve the mystery of the Japanese man.

We only made it past four checkpoints before Dr. Franks appeared. His lab coat looked as if he'd slept in it, but he was grinning like an idiot. I definitely wouldn't be grinning if I had to try to sleep in this awful, freezing place.

“Mrs. Higbee,” he said, “you came!”

Mama's eyes narrowed. “Did you think we wouldn't?”

Dr. Franks lowered his gaze. “I suppose I had my doubts. But I do think you'll appreciate what we've accomplished.” He directed us into a nearby elevator. “There's something I'd like to show you.”

Auntie Mildred hurried aboard, eager to meet the breakthrough, but I lingered on the threshold, suddenly nervous. Something about the way that he'd lowered his eyes had made my stomach clench. What if this so-called accomplishment had nothing to do with Robby? What if we'd come all this way so Dr. Franks could show us his earwax collection?

The door tried to close on Auntie Mildred's heels, but Dr. Franks stopped it. “Were you planning to join us?”

Mama took my hand. “Courage, sweetness,” she whispered as we stepped into the elevator.

The room he took us to was unlike any of the others we'd been in so far. For one thing, it was long, with two rows of theater seats that faced a large window, and for another, it was crammed. Two gray-colored folks were standing closest to the door. Their eyes and cheeks were sunken, as if they hadn't slept in weeks. A frantic-looking mama with a pack of squabbling kids was standing next to them, and farther down, an old man with a leathery face couldn't seem to stop frowning. There were other folks, too, but those four stood out. They looked like they needed a hug.

“Who are they?” I asked as Auntie Mildred elbowed around them.

“The other families, of course.” Dr. Franks motioned toward the window. “They're here to see the demonstration.”

Mama's forehead wrinkled. “But why are they interested in Robby?”

Dr. Franks leaned toward her. “Come again?”

“I said, why are they interested in Robby?”

Instead of waiting to hear his answer, I dove into the crowd behind Auntie Mildred. The other families had cleared a path, and it still hadn't filled in. They must have been wary of her pointy elbows.

“Where is he?” she mumbled.

I pressed my nose against the window. It looked down on a gym with a balance beam, monkey bars, and a set of mini hurdles. Several dozen assistants were fluttering around the subjects, whose teal robes and bare feet made them easy to spot. It seemed like Dr. Franks could have at least found them some socks. There were few things I hated more than cold feet.

Auntie Mildred bent this way and that as she inspected the subjects. “Where
is
he? I can't see him.”

But I could see the Japanese man. His teal robe and bare feet couldn't hide his black hair. Someone had tried to tame it, but it still stuck out every which way. They'd tucked him into a corner, obviously apart from the rest, who were sitting in hard plastic chairs (or, in some cases, slouching).

Auntie Mildred trembled. “He isn't here,” she whispered, then shouted it again: “Anna, he isn't here!”

The other families, who'd been chatting quietly, snapped to attention. Their eyes settled on Auntie Mildred (whose eyes were filling with tears).

Dr. Franks perked up. “
Who
isn't?”

“Who do you think?” Mama asked.

When Dr. Franks didn't answer, I rolled my eyes. “They're talkin' about Robby,” I said.

Dr. Franks's forehead crinkled. “Why would he be?” he asked. He seemed genuinely confused.

“Because you found him,” I replied. “You said you had a breakthrough.”

“We
did
have a breakthrough,” he said, “but we have not found Robert Clausen.”

I swallowed, hard. I'd suspected as much, but it was still hard to hear. Mama's hands clenched into fists, though she managed not to swing them. Auntie Mildred didn't react—on the outside, at least. I could only imagine what was going on under that pale pink hat.

“My apologies,” he went on after clearing his throat. When we just stood there, stunned, he pressed a nearby button, and an intercom crackled to life. “You can go ahead, Jackson.”

As Dr. Franks's words reverberated around the gym, the assistants leaped to their feet. They grabbed the subjects—by their hands or their armpits, whichever was more convenient—and dragged them from their seats. As I watched the subjects shuffle from one spot to another, I matched them to their families. The gray-colored man was probably the gray-colored people's son, and the girl with the frown had to belong to the old man. None of the subjects looked like the frantic-looking mama, but I decided she went with the tall man by the door. He was still just sitting there drooling, but she hadn't stopped staring the whole time we'd been here.

By contrast, the Japanese man belonged to no one. The assistants mostly ignored him, but he seemed fine on his own. He walked effortlessly to the balance beam and traversed it with ease. I'd tried my hand at walking plenty of fence rails in my day, but I always fell off. The Japanese man, on the other hand, didn't so much as bobble.

“You see?” Dr. Franks asked. “He's a breakthrough, a real breakthrough!”

I couldn't decide if he was a breakthrough or not, but he did look more stable than the other subjects, who were in various states of not-standing. When the Japanese man reached the end, he hopped off like a sparrow, then looked around to see if anyone had noticed. But the assistants were so busy getting drooled on—or worse—that none of them had.

The Japanese man eyed the others with something like curiosity. I couldn't say I blamed him. They were acting like a pack of overgrown toddlers, but instead of running for cover (like I would have, no doubt), the Japanese man turned around.

Dr. Franks tensed. “What's he doing?”

It hit me as soon as he reached another subject, a short, stocky woman who was on her hands and knees. “He wants to help,” I whispered.

Sure enough, the Japanese man took one look at the woman, then extended a hand.

Before she could decide if she wanted to take it, Dr. Franks pounced on the intercom. “Keep him moving, Jackson! He must complete the whole course if we want to be able to make a full analysis.”

“Are you talking about the Jap?” someone asked. “How'd he get here, anyway? And why's he not crawling like Maisie?”

Before Dr. Franks had a chance to answer, Auntie Mildred exploded. “He's an imposter!” she screamed. “And he was supposed to be
mine
!”

She thumped on the window, then crumpled into a ball. A growl started rumbling in her chest, then steadily built into a howl. It reminded me of the coyotes that roamed the hills during the night. When she dragged her nails along the glass, leaving inch-long scratches, the other families shifted back. I would have done the same if she hadn't been my flesh and blood.

It seemed like I should say something, since I was closer than Mama, but the sound she was making didn't promote conversation. I was about to chicken out when I remembered the Japanese man. If he could hold out a hand to a perfect stranger, then I could comfort my own auntie. Tentatively, I patted her shoulder, but as soon as I made contact, she yelped like a hurt dog and knocked my hand away. When it hit the window, it echoed like a gong—or a gunshot.

I was too stunned to do much more than stare, but Dr. Franks pounced on another button. “Imogene, I need backup! I repeat, I need backup!”

It only took a minute for the men in black suits to show up. While the other families crouched down and tried to make themselves less noticeable, the men dragged Auntie Mildred away from the window, then uncapped a needle and jammed it into her arm. It only took a second for Auntie Mildred's eyes to roll back in her head.

Mama's eyes hardened. “What have you done?” she demanded as they towed Auntie Mildred away. Her heels dragged on the tiles, leaving long black skid marks that would probably take days to scrub off.

I just stared at the spot where Auntie Mildred had fallen, trying to ignore the rising tide of nausea that was taking over my stomach. She'd never been my favorite relative, but watching those men jab her had rearranged my loyalties.

Dr. Franks held up his hands. “It was just a precaution,” he said as he shrank away from Mama. “She was a danger to herself and others.”

“She might have been a danger to that window, but she wasn't a danger to
you.
” Mama tightened her grip on her purse. “You'll take me to her this instant, and then we're gonna leave.”

Dr. Franks swallowed. “Very well.”

When Mama seized my hand, I didn't even protest, just let her drag me out the door. The other families watched us go without saying a word. One man clenched his fists, but the frantic-looking mama waved him off. She must have refereed plenty of fights.

Auntie Mildred had ended up down the hall in a room that looked like it had once been a closet. They'd taken out most of the shelves and replaced them with a metal table and two spindly chairs. By the time we arrived in the doorway, she was already coming to.

Mama breezed past the man silently guarding the door. I couldn't resist stepping on his giant black shoe, but the man didn't budge.

Mama knelt down by the chair they'd stuck Auntie Mildred in. “How are you feelin'?” Mama asked.

Auntie Mildred clutched her forehead. “Like someone cracked me with a shovel.”

Mama pursed her lips. “Do you think you can stand?”

Auntie Mildred gripped the table and dragged herself back to her feet. She bobbled like a newborn calf, but somehow, she didn't fall. I couldn't help but be reminded of the Japanese man downstairs.

“Well, then,” Mama said, “we'll just be on our way.”

Dr. Franks fiddled with his sleeve. “A thousand apologies, Mrs. Clausen. What a terrible misunderstanding.”

BOOK: The Sound of Life and Everything
12.39Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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