Jane Smiley - Some Luck

“How did that happen?”

“He was walking home from school and he ran into someone he had punched during recess the day before.”

“Do I know the person he ran into?”

Frank nodded.

“But the Dugans live on the other side of school.”

“Not that far.”

“Not that far if you’re a fast runner, right, Frank?”

“You could say that.”

“Who else doesn’t bully anyone anymore?”

“Well, Dallas Coggins doesn’t even go to school now. I think the school gave up on him. Howie Prince tried a few things, but he stopped when the person he was kicking lured him round the school to where Miss Louis was reading a book and she saw what was going on.”

“The teacher?”

“Yeah. I guess when he got home he got such a whipping that he couldn’t sit down for three days.”

“That was smart, what that person did.”

“I don’t know, it just seemed obvious.”

“How did you know Miss Louis was reading a book?”

“I saw her. I thought everyone saw her.”

Eloise stubbed out what was left of her cigarette on a saucer she had set on the railing. She said, “Sounds like there isn’t quite as much bullying at that school as there used to be.”

“I got it seven times by the time I was Joey’s age, and he’s only gotten it once.”

“Who did he get it from?”

“Me.”

“Well, I guess I’m not surprised at that.” Then she said, “Boys will be boys. But here’s the thing, Frankie. Almost everyone sees things, but not everyone notices them.”

“I suppose so,” said Frankie. Then, “Were you in Chicago?”

“I live in Chicago now.”

“Chicago is big, right?”

“You can’t imagine. You just can’t. I couldn’t. I’ve been to New York and St. Louis, too, and Chicago seems bigger than they are, but New York has more people, they say. I don’t know.”

“Do you like it there?”

Eloise put her hand on her hip and crossed her ankles. She was fiddling with the packet of cigarettes. She said, “They couldn’t drag me out of there. I think the Loop is the most wonderful place in the world.”

Frankie said, a little alarmed, “Do they want to drag you out of there?”

Eloise threw back her head and laughed. Her hair, which was shiny, flicked forward, then backward, then forward again. She said, “No, I’m joking.” She had beads on her dress, lines of beads that made a V-shape and glinted in the twilight. All of a sudden he said, “That’s a pretty dress.”

Now she took another cigarette out of the packet and tapped it on the railing. She put it between her lips and lit it, then took it out and picked something — a bit of tobacco? — off the tip of her tongue. She said, “Thanks for noticing, Frankie. What are you, eight?”

“Almost ten. Ten in a week.”

“Well, in a few years, you can come on the train to Chicago and visit me. Or you can talk Walter into putting those beef cattle on the train and bringing them to the stockyards himself, and you can come along.”

“I think he sends them to Omaha. He doesn’t like to send them very far. What do you do in Chicago?”

“I work at a newspaper called the American . I write recipes, but next year I might get to write about other things. I might get to go to some swanky parties and write about those.”

“Do you like swanky parties?”

“Don’t know yet. I like the houses and the hotels along the lake where they have the swanky parties.”

“What lake?”

“Oh, Frankie! Lake Michigan!”

Frank felt his ears get hot. It was very unusual for him to say something stupid. He bit his lip. Then Eloise ruffled his hair and said, “You come see me on the train. I’ll show it to you.”

Just then, the door behind him opened and Granny Mary stepped out onto the porch, but she backed up and closed the door, and Eloise hurriedly stubbed out her half-smoked cigarette. She coughed twice, and then Granny Mary came out again. Both ladies now had those frozen smiles that meant trouble, so Frank slipped through the door, back into the kitchen.

ON JOE’S BIRTHDAY, Papa came home from town just before supper, and he had a funny look on his face. Mama was busy fussing over the fried chicken and the mashed potatoes, which was what Joe had told her he wanted. He was eight now, which was pretty big. There was also a pound cake, but no ice cream, because Mama didn’t have time to make it, and no pie, because no fruits were in season and they had eaten the last of the apples stored in the cellar. The icing for the pound cake was something Joey rather liked, though — Mama took a jar of strawberry jam from the previous summer, heated it on the range, and poured it over the top of the cake. It seeped down into the cake and made it smell very good.

Granny Mary and Grandpa Otto brought Opa and Oma for supper. It took two people to help Opa out of Rolf’s car (driven by Granny Mary), and then it took three to get him up the front steps. He was little and bent over. If Joe stood up straight, he was nearly as tall as Opa, which was a funny feeling. Opa looked at him very carefully, and then said, “Wer ist dieser Junge?”

“Opa!” said Granny Mary. She leaned toward him and said, “This is Joseph. Today is his birthday.”

“Ja,” said Opa, and Mama helped him to Papa’s chair, where he very slowly sat down. A moment later, he said again, “Wer ist dieser Junge?”

Granny Mary came over, put her hand on Joe’s shoulder, and said, “Joey, dear, show me your cake in the kitchen. When I was a girl, we didn’t have birthday cake.”

“What did you have?”

“No one cared about a birthday in those days. If you even knew when your birthday was. We had a girl working for us, she never knew how old she was. Opa used to tease her. He would open her mouth and look at her teeth, like she was a horse. Then he would say, ‘Callie, you are more than ten and less than a hundred.’ Well, she was a poor girl, in the end.” Then Granny pressed her lips together, and Joe knew not to ask any questions about what had happened to her.

At the supper table, Opa sat between Granny Mary and Oma, and Oma tied his napkin around his neck, and gave him a spoon to hold in one hand and a piece of bread in the other, but she and Granny Mary fed him. Grandpa Otto tried not to pay any attention to this — he sat between Frankie and Papa and talked about farm prices. Mama set out dishes of food and made sure that they were passed around the table without spilling, and because it was Joe’s birthday, he got to pick his piece of chicken. Opa only once said, “Wer ist dieser Junge?” and no one answered him.

Once everyone was served, Papa sat back in his chair and said, “You’ll never guess what happened when I was in town today.”

“Which town?” said Granny Mary.

“Our town. Denby. Population two hundred and fourteen.”

“What?” said Frankie.

“Dan Crest’s store was robbed.”

“Oh, my goodness!” said Granny Mary, and Opa said, “Was ist los?” as if he was worried.

“While you were there?” said Mama.

“I was standing looking at the work gloves, and two young fellows who’d put some things on the counter pulled out guns and said for Dan to give them his money, and he did, just handed them about ten bucks, and they turned to run out, and Rodney Carson — you know, that boy who’s been working there — he stuck out a broom handle and tripped them up as they headed out the door. They went sprawling down the steps.” Now Papa laughed, and Grandpa Otto said, “Well, I’d like to have seen that.” Mama said, “Oh dear! They had guns! I swear, it isn’t safe to leave the farm anymore.” And Papa said, “Turned out the guns weren’t loaded, which was—”