(Read Part Two here)
It was raining hard the next morning, angry pellets of water
slapping off the metal awning above his grandfather’s house. Michael waited for
a reprieve from the downpour. He could see the Spaniard’s newsstand up the block,
his destination, and he waited a good ten minutes before the rain suddenly
eased to a steady drizzle. He jogged toward it.
He was almost halfway there when the skies opened again. He broke into a
dead run, twice soaking his shoes and socks in deep puddles. By the time he stood
before the Spaniard he was soaked to the skin.
“Paraguas,” the old man said in a voice dripping with
disapproval.
“What?”
“How you say …oh what is your word? Forty-five years
I am here, and I still can’t remember it! Parasol? …no, that’s not it…”
“Umbrella?” Michael asked
“Yes! Bueno! Umbrella.”
“I don’t have one.”
“Your grandfather, he has one. He is dry in the rain. You
are wet. Wet like a fish.”
“Well, that’s his umbrella. He might want to go out and I
won’t be back until this afternoon.”
“Where are you going in this? Esta lloviendo,” the
old man said, pointing at the thick, dark gray clouds and shaking his head.
“All day. All day it will rain.”
“I need a newspaper. I’m job-hunting today.”
“What kind of job? A job for a fish? No one is hiring fish.
Why do you want a job? You are going to college soon, no? Louis said so.”
“I told my grandfather …” Michael began, but stopped when a floral
umbrella appeared as if by magic over his head. He turned to see who was shielding
him from the downpour. A young woman stood next to him, sharing her umbrella
and looking at him with clear disapproval.
“He’s mad at his parents, Diego,” she said, leaning towards
the Spaniard. She half-whispered as a child does when sharing a secret: “He’s
angry, so he’s throwing his future away.”
“Then he is a stupid fish,” Diego said, looking at Michael
while frowning and shaking his head slightly from side to side.
Michael began to object, but she put a finger to her lips and
silenced him. Her eyes scolded and invited at the same time, and his voice
trailed off.
“I saw you yesterday in Vinnie’s,” the young woman
said. “Heard you, too. Everyone did. Even the cook and dishwasher in the back. They
think you’re a jackass. I thought so too, until this morning. Now I think Diego
is right. You might just be a fish after all.”
“I didn’t see you,” he replied.
“I was working the counter and the register. Vinnie had a
call-off.”
“Well, I’ve never seen you there and I’ve had breakfast in
the same booth most mornings all summer long.”
“I’ve been working evenings. I’ve never seen you, either,
until you entertained everyone for breakfast.”
He had no retort. He was suddenly struck dumb as he looked
at her more closely. Her hair, dark brown with streaks of auburn …how could
it seem to shimmer so? She smiled and said: “So, you’re mad at mommy and
daddy?”
“It’s not that simple,” he said, face flushing, as she gently
hooked his arm with hers and began walking him up the sidewalk under the cover
of her umbrella. He went without any objection and they navigated carefully around
the many puddles of water on the uneven sidewalk.
“Of course it’s that simple,” she sighed. “You think this
will show them you are your own person. It won’t. It’ll just harden their
hearts, and you will eventually give in. Maybe after six months, maybe a year,
but you’ll find out quickly that you made a mistake. You’ll end up in …Villanova,
isn’t it? You’ll end up there anyway
after wasting time you can’t get back and enduring the humiliation of
surrender.”
He opened his mouth to object, but she put her finger to his
lips and his voice inexplicably failed him once more.
She pulled her hand away and said: “If you go to Villanova,
you do give them part of what they want. But then you will be there, and they will
not. You don’t need a parental permission slip to change a major, little fish.
Just don’t do it right away. Wait a semester, a whole year is even better. Pick
electives that interest you. Build a case for your change in direction. Convince
them. If you can’t, you’re not a good fit for a career in law anyway. That’s
what your parents want from what I overheard. Build your case, then become your
own man. Or remain a fish. It’s your call, really. Man or fish.”
They stopped and she locked eyes with him yet again.
“If you want to stay a fish,” she said half-sighing, “You can
put on some dry clothes, grab your grandfather’s umbrella and go down two
blocks to Buddy’s Burgers. They need a cook. No experience necessary. No
future, either.”
“So says the cashier,” he shot back, regretting it
immediately.
“Is this your grandfather’s place?” She turned her face away
and he felt as if he no longer existed. There was an ache, a thrill of some sort in his chest he’d
never felt before. He hadn’t realized they’d been walking back up the block. The
only thing in the universe had been her. He could have been walking on the
surface of the moon and not known it.
“Go inside,” she said, frowning. Yes, he’d hurt her.
He was horrified at his cruelty. “Dry clothes and a damned umbrella if you’re
serious about looking for work. We need a dishwasher, but we don’t hire fish.
And don’t come to Vinnie’s for supper to apologize. You’ll end up with your
plate in your lap.”
She turned and left him there, the rain pouring down his
face. “Get inside, stupid little fish!” she cried without looking back. “And
don’t come for supper.”
He smiled; he couldn’t help it. She’d said it twice. He
hadn’t even bought a newspaper, but he’d learned all he needed to know under her
umbrella. He climbed the steps and stood under the awning, watching her walk up
the sidewalk until she reached Vinnie’s and disappeared inside.
She never once
looked back.
* * *
...Be good to each other
* * *
