The Silents

3

CHAPTER 3 M AMA's NERVES could be shaken by the slightest display of disobedience or the breakdown of her ordered days. If she expected to cook trout for Thursday's dinner and Mr. Solomon, who owned the fish store on Division Street, told her he had no trout, she would stare at his lips with disbelief. Then she'd turn to me and ask, "What did he say?" as if she didn't know, and I'd have to fingerspell to confirm Mr. Solomon's disappointing news. She'd say "He makes me nervous " and walk out in a huff. Having to change her menu threw the whole day offschedule and put her into a blue funk. It amused Papa that she would put such stock in the promises of tradesmen, for he never did. He'd cast a shadowy eye at anyone who rang our bell light, whether they were selling insurance or a magazine subscription. "Ruthie," he said one morning, when she complained that the drugstore ran out ofher favorite hand lotion. "That's the way life is. You can't trust anybody." I suspected his mistrust was aimed especially at hearing people because he once commented to Mama that "a hearing man had done him dirt." I never heard him say that about a deafman. Aware that I had thrown Mama's nerves out of whack on a grand scale, I walked home with Adelaide that afternoon, carefully this time, because I was in charge ofher between home and school. Mama's rules. This was in accordance with her interpretation ofthe Bible. It was her answer to Cain's question. Besides, my knees were stiffas boards by then. 21 "What happened to your knees?" Adelaide asked as we crossed Evergreen Avenue and reached Mr. Laykin's store. "Nothin'." Mr. Laykin was behind the counter, putting cans in a brown paper bag. I tried to walk casually past his window in case he looked up, but my knees wouldn't cooperate. I hopped on the one leg that didn't hurt as much until we were out of his sight. Adelaide jumped over the cracks in the sidewalk until we reached our building, and we walked up the stairs to the second floor landing. I reached for my key, but it was gone. "Knock on the door, Adelaide." "You knock on the door," she demanded. "You're the one who forgot the key." "I can't," I answered, "I have to pee." I closed my legs tight in a scissorlock and sat down on the steps. Adelaide pounded. She started to cry because she knew it would take Mama forever to figure out that the pounding that rumbled through the door and to her feet was not a truck going by. Or somebody hauling furniture up the stairs. Even ifAdelaide ran down the stairs and rang the bell, Mama wouldn't see the light because she'd be reading a book, her nose stuck between the pages. "Doo doo pants," she shrieked. The same words she used to shame me out of our double bed when heavy sleep kept me from the bathroom. She pounded until the skin on her knuckles turned red. Every time she pounded, her dress rose to reveal her underpants. They were still dry. Mine were already soggy. Mrs. Goldberg, who lived on the third floor, shouted down from her apartment. "Vy do you do dis to Mama? Poor dear. So come up and have milk and cookies. Leave Mama alone." "I can't, Mrs. Goldberg." "Vy?" "Just can't." I knew if! unlocked my legs, everything would come dripping down. 22 Adelaide yelled, "I'm going!" She crossed over me and climbed the steps to Mrs. Goldberg's milk and cookies and bathroom. When Mama finally opened the door, my legs were wet. She peered into the darkness. "Where is your key? Where is Addle?" I pointed upstairs, ran to the bathroom, and slammed the door. Mama was shouting through the door, "You forget your key every time." That wasn't true. I was conscientious about carrying my key, fiddling with it in my pocket to be sure it was there, for I knew the consequences offorgetting it. I was sure the neighbors heard her screeching at me; the whole world didn't need to know I wet my pants. I may have forgotten the key once a month, even...