I and Sproggy Read online

  CHAPTER 3

  “Dad called,” Adam’s mother said when he returned with the cream. “He wants to take you out for dinner and maybe a movie tonight.” He followed her into her bedroom.

  “How come? If he’s coming over tomorrow, how come he wants to take me out tonight?” Adam asked. “Who else is going?” If she was coming along, he’d stay home.

  “Just the two of you. I guess he wants to see you alone so you can talk. He said to tell you he’d go to any movie you want except one with blood and violence in it. He said he doesn’t care about you—you’re young and strong and can take that kind of thing. But he can’t stand the sight of blood in living color. He always did have a weak stomach,” she said fondly. “That and the back of his neck were what attracted me to him in the first place.”

  She leaned over and brushed her hair until it crackled. “And it works out very well,” she said, “because Harry’s taking me to the ballet.” When she finished brushing, she dipped her finger into a pot of blue and traced the color on her eyelids. He watched, fascinated, as she put smudges of red on her cheekbones, rubbing the color into her skin. Then she darkened her lashes with mascara.

  “I am nothing if not a natural beauty,” she said. He liked her better without all that stuff on her face.

  “Do you think it would be gilding the lily if I put these on?”

  She held up the pair of earrings that Adam’s father had given her when Adam was born. They were like a hummingbird’s wing, lacy and golden, and Adam loved them more than any other piece of jewelry he’d ever seen.

  He sometimes imagined the scene in which his father had presented them to her. There he lay in his mother’s arms, his face all squinched and red and furrowed like a newly plowed field. There he was, with both of them looking down at him with such love in their faces that their features were blurred. He had a picture of the three of them that someone had taken right after they’d brought him home from the hospital. It seemed to Adam that the bundle in his mother’s arms resembled nothing human, but was more like a troll they’d found under a bridge somewhere. As for his parents, he almost didn’t recognize them in the picture—they looked so young and foolish.

  She took off her sneakers and put on a pair of shoes with straps and heels. When she stood up, she seemed to have grown several inches.

  Adam hoped very much his mother would put on the earrings now. He would never say so. Not in a million years. She had to do it on her own. If she wore them, even if it was when she was going out with Harry Carter, it seemed to him she was donning a part of her life when there had been him, her, and his father. A part of her life that was gone but still there.

  “I bet Dad would never give Arabella a pair of earrings like those,” he said.

  “No.” She screwed one into her ear. “No, I don’t expect he would.”

  Adam’s father and Harry arrived on the same elevator. “Hi, Dad,” said Adam, as if he’d seen his father only last week.

  His father caught him in a bear hug, smashing Adam’s nose against his jacket. He wouldn’t have minded staying there awhile.

  “My Lord, but you’re getting big!” he said. “I guess that’s to be expected in two years, though.”

  “You look great, Dad.” Adam returned the compliment, pleased that his father thought he’d grown.

  “Getting a little thin on top,” his father said ruefully, smoothing his hair, “but otherwise no complaints.” Adam recalled that his father had the hair in his family. His grandfather and two uncles looked like Kojak. Baldness was hereditary, Adam knew. He figured he didn’t stand a chance. If he didn’t start growing, really growing, and soon, he’d probably start losing his hair when he hit high school, and by the time he graduated, he’d look like a bald midget. The thought was not appealing.

  Harry ran his fingers through his thick dark hair and smiled at them. Adam was glad to note that, although Harry was taller, his father’s shoulders were broader.

  “There you are.” His mother appeared, looking very pretty. Why not? She’d spent enough time at it. Too much, Adam thought, no matter what the results. “I see you two have met. Good to see you, Dick.” She gave Adam’s father both her hands as if they didn’t belong to her and she wasn’t sure what to do with them. He took them in his.

  “You look marvelous,” he said. She laughed and they stood for a moment as if they were alone.

  Adam noticed she laughed more than usual, that her eyes shone and she made fluttery motions with her hands, tossed her hair back from her face with a twist of her head, and, in general, was behaving strangely. He wasn’t at all sure he liked it. He secretly considered her appearance extremely interesting, even spacy looking. She was an illustrator, a painter of pictures, a lady who could almost sit on her own hair. Ordinarily, he was proud of her. Now he felt she was being somewhat undignified. As he watched her out of the corner of his eye, she seemed to become more animated every minute.

  “You’re more beautiful than ever,” Adam’s father told her. That didn’t help to calm her down any.

  Harry stood around clearing his throat. Finally she noticed him.

  “Harry dear,” she said, laying her hand on Harry’s arm—which Adam felt to be completely unnecessary, “we must be off or we’ll miss our curtain. You won’t be late, you two, will you?” she asked coquettishly. Adam felt like saying, “Hey, Ma, pull yourself together,” but he didn’t.

  On the way to the restaurant, Adam was tempted to show his father how well he was able to walk in slow motion but decided he’d save that for later, after they got better acquainted. He liked walking down the street beside his father. He kept hoping someone he knew would pass by, do a double-take, and exclaim, “You two are the image of each other! I’d have known you were father and son anywhere!” No one did.

  “Good evening, sir.” The waiter greeted them. “A table for two?” What did he think they wanted, a table for six? Adam wondered. They sat down, and he flipped open his big linen napkin and laid it across his legs, the way his father had done.

  “The escargots are very good tonight,” the waiter said. “Also the moules.”

  “Escargots are snails,” his father explained, “and moules are mussels.”

  “Muscles?” Adam asked, incredulous.

  “Yes, mussels,” his father replied.

  After a lot of thought, Adam said, “Do you have any hamburgers?” The waiter looked as if he’d been seized with gas pains.

  “How about the pot au feu?” Adam’s father said. “It’s like stew and very good.” Adam reluctantly agreed. You had to watch your step in a joint like this, he thought, or they might slip something really weird at you.

  After the waiter had taken their order and left them, Adam and his father smiled at each other like two strangers on a bus who had caught each other’s eye. It was like the night his father had told him about the divorce. They sat quietly while the noises swirled around them, saying nothing, thinking private thoughts. Two years is a long time. A quarter of Adam’s lifetime, he figured. He was good at math.

  “How are things at the office?” he finally asked his father.

  “Fine, fine,” his father said absentmindedly. Adam broke a piece of bread in half, buttered it, and chewed slowly, thinking about what to say next. He remembered to chew with his mouth closed. His mother would have been proud.

  “I wanted to talk to you about something,” his father said.

  “Dad,” Adam said, “about this girl.”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” His father looked relieved. “Sproggy is her name. She’s your age. A nice kid, really, You’ll like her. I think. In any event, I’d like you to more or less take her under your wing. Show her the ropes, be kind to her. Can you do that for me? I’m very fond of Sproggy.”

  Do you love her more than me? Adam wanted to ask. And didn’t. Instead he said, “I don’t know. That’s a lot of things. Why does she have that dopey name?”

  “Oh, it’s one of those th
ings that begins in childhood and then sticks, I guess.”

  The waiter brought their dinner. “Everything all right, sir?” he asked.

  “Everything’s fine, thank you.”

  The waiter went away.

  “You might think, when you meet her, that Sproggy’s not in need of any looking after. She seems very grown-up, very much in charge.” His father began to eat. Adam did the same. The pot au feu was pretty good. He was glad he hadn’t had hamburger. You had to be adventurous once in a while if you wanted to get anywhere in life, he decided.

  “But she’s really not so grown-up, and I think she could use a friend. I told Arabella I was going to ask this favor of you, Adam.” His father extracted a snail from its shell and said, “Would you like to try one?”

  Adam shook his head. He wasn’t that adventurous.

  “We’d both feel much better about Sproggy if we knew you’d look out for her at first,” his father said. “I’ve told Arabella so much about you. We’d be grateful if you’d keep an eye on her for a couple of weeks.”

  “I’ll try, Dad,” Adam said. I don’t want to, he thought. I wish Dad hadn’t asked me. “I don’t think I can do much, though,” he said.

  “Well, thanks. That’s a relief.”

  They finished their dinner. “How about some dessert?” his father asked.

  “I’m full,” Adam said. It was all that bread.

  “You can’t manage a confection of whipped cream and chocolate?”

  The waiter presented Adam with just such a confection, and he demolished it.

  “That’s a little soldier. I knew you could do it.” The check arrived, and Adam watched as his father piled bills in a heap on the tray. All that for one meal.

  “Are you up to a movie?”

  “Mom said you couldn’t take any blood and violence,” Adam said. “That sort of limits us.”

  “Have you ever seen Charlie Chaplin?”

  “No,” Adam said.

  “That’s good. This will be your first exposure.” They walked a few blocks and saw The Gold Rush.

  “It was the best movie I ever saw,” Adam said as they walked home. “Wait’ll I tell Kenny and Steve what they’re missing.”

  He thanked his father for a great time. “See you tomorrow,” he said. “It was the best.” That night Adam dreamed he was walking up the steps of Gracie Mansion. The windows were lit and music was playing. When he got inside, the Mayor, a little man with a mustache, dressed in a black suit and a derby, and carrying a cane, greeted him.

  CHAPTER 4

  “How come we’re using napkins that have to be ironed?” Adam asked next morning. “Instead of paper ones?”

  “Use your head,” his mother said. “One doesn’t use paper napkins at a time like this.”

  He thought of asking, “Why?” and decided against it.

  “I might have to leave after lunch,” he said. “I and Kenny have a date.”

  She grasped him by the shoulder. For a small woman she was pretty strong.

  “Now you listen to me,” she said from between tight lips. “There’ll be no skinning out of this one.”

  She surveyed the table critically. “It’ll have to do,” she said. The doorbell rang. She jumped. Adam froze.

  “That’s them,” he whispered.

  His mother arranged a smile on her face.

  “Look pleasant,” she snapped. Rosalie caught the vibes and tiptoed into Adam’s room and under his bed.

  “Lucky little creep,” he said to himself, wishing he could join her.

  “Hello, hello,” Adam’s father cried as they opened the door. Adam crouched behind his mother, glad for the first time in his life that he was small.

  His mother murmured, “So glad. Delighted. And this must be—”

  “I’m Arabella,” the tall thin lady said to Adam, grasping his hand in hers. Her fingers were long and dry. It was like shaking hands with a spider, Adam thought.

  “And this is Sproggy,” Adam’s father said, putting his arm around Sproggy. “Darling,” he said to her, “this is Adam!” The grownups stood in a half circle, smiling down at the little ones getting to know each other. He never called me darling, Adam thought.

  “How simply super to meet you!” Sproggy said cheerfully. Adam kept his hands behind his back so she couldn’t get hold of him. If she did, he felt, there was no telling what might happen.

  Sproggy was arrayed in a sea of blue denim. Denim jacket, denim shoes, blue jeans, even a denim backpack. Her hair was orange. She seemed to him a formidable older woman.

  “It’s perfectly charming of you to have us,” Arabella said. “We’ve so been looking forward to meeting you all.”

  Adam’s mother smiled and passed the nuts. “And do have a deviled egg,” she said. “Adam.” He passed the deviled eggs. Either they or the plate were slippery because one landed smack in the middle of the rug. Yolk side up, fortunately. “No harm done,” Sproggy said, picking it up and popping it in her mouth. His mother laughed delightedly.

  If I had done that, Adam thought.

  They discussed the weather, and the city, which they found fascinating, and the high cost of everything.

  “Very pricey, that,” Arabella kept saying. “But Dick and I,” she said, “are so pleased with how nicely Sproggy’s been settling in. Aren’t we, darling?” she asked Adam’s father.

  All eyes, including Adam’s, turned on Sproggy, who was rooting around in her backpack. “Do you play chess?” she asked Adam. “I’ve just learned, and I’m awfully keen on it.”

  Adam didn’t play.

  “What a pity,” Sproggy said.

  “Adam dear,” his mother said, “will you give me a hand for a minute?”

  “I don’t care what you say,” he complained when they were out of earshot, “she’s not my age. She’s a teen-ager. I bet she’s a teen-ager.”

  “Girls grow faster than boys up to a point,” his mother said, taking things out of the oven.

  “Ma,” Adam said, “please. Just let’s get this over with, all right?”

  “Mummy sent me in to ask if I might help,” Sproggy said at the kitchen door. She got to carry in the rolls. Adam burned his hand on a casserole dish. Everyone allowed as how they’d never had such a delicious lunch.

  “It’s time for Rosalie’s walk,” Adam said after the table had been cleared. He avoided his mother’s eye and made a complicated business of fastening the dog’s leash to her collar.

  “What a dear little dog,” Sproggy said, patting Rosalie. One thing Rosie couldn’t stand was to have a stranger touch her. She began to wheeze. In moments of stress Rosalie frequently developed asthma.

  “Why don’t you take Sproggy with you?” Adam’s father suggested. “Show her around.”

  “Give me a break, Dad,” Adam wanted to say. And didn’t.

  “That would be lovely,” Arabella agreed. “Just don’t stay out too long, though. I have heaps of things to do.”

  Sproggy stood beside him in the elevator. She was half a head taller than he. Easily. Maybe more.

  “How old are you?” he said.

  “I’ll be eleven next month,” she said. “I understand you’ll be eleven in December.”

  “Who told you?”

  “Daddy.”

  “My father?”

  “Yes. He said I might call him that. I hope you don’t mind?” she asked, and when he didn’t respond she smiled at him. The elevator came to a stop in the lobby. The door slid open. Adam started out. Unfortunately, Sproggy must’ve believed in ladies’ being first because she walked out too. They collided in the doorway. And Adam tripped on Rosalie’s leash and fell in a heap.

  “Oh, I say, that’s my fault,” Sproggy said and helped him up. “I’m frightfully clumsy, I’m afraid.” Her cheeks were red with embarrassment.

  “Hey,” Kenny said, watching, “I was just coming up to see you.”

  “Well, I’m not there,” Adam said crossly. He felt humiliated that Kenny had caught
her picking him off the floor as if he’d been a piece of string. Rosalie’s wheezing increased.

  Adam charged toward the street; the others followed. “Who are you?” he heard Kenny ask Sproggy.

  “I’m Sproggy,” she said. “And you?”

  “I’m a friend of Adam’s. Kenny’s the name.”

  “I’m very glad to meet you, Kenny. I say, does he always walk this fast?”

  “Only when someone’s chasing him. Hey, Adam,” Kenny called, “where’s the fire?”

  They waited at the corner for the light to change.

  “That’s Sproggy,” Adam said to Kenny. “From England. My father’s new wife’s kid.”

  “No kidding. You ever been to Westminster Abbey?” Kenny asked her.

  “Heaps of times,” Sproggy said.

  “That’s where I wanted to go. To walk on all those famous people buried there. Kings and queens and poets. If my father could’ve scratched up the bread, I and Adam would’ve gone there to visit his father.” Kenny was a pessimist. He wore a doleful look as comfortably as if it were a suit of old and well-loved clothes. “If one of my sisters was planning to go to Westminster Abbey,” he said, “she’d get there. Not me. I got gypped. I usually do.”

  “Bread?” Sproggy looked puzzled.

  “He means money,” Adam said.

  They walked toward the park. “Steve’s calling a meeting of the club tomorrow, second bench from the river,” Kenny said, out of the side of his mouth. “If it doesn’t rain or a tornado doesn’t show up or anything. Pass it on.”

  “Who do I pass it on to?” Adam asked. “It’s just you and me and him in the club.”