Chapter 9
"When you
hawk headlings, you'se gotta project yer voice…make it real loud." I was with
Braker and Dash on my first day as being a newsie. Mother had finally given in
to my begging and let me work with the newsies, however I still had to live at
home. I was ecstatic and the night before I had to go off to the distribution
center with Luna, I couldn't sleep a wink. Now was rather tired, but I was
determined to scream out those headlines, instead of just squeaking them out.
Luna had gone off to sell with Spot and I was just tagging along besides Braker
and Dash. Braker was willing to teach me how to sell but Dash wouldn't even
speak to me.
"So you'se
a newsie now? Ain't that sinkin down a level fer ya?" He had remarked when I
arrived at the distribution center. I was unfortunate enough, however, to get
placed with Dash and Braker, and Dash went on and on about how much he hated
toting around little girls who didn't know how to take the silver spoon out of
my mouth. He was quiet now, but that was because he was 10 feet in front of us.
"Try
again." Braker said, standing back as I yelled out the latest headline.
"BROOKLYN BRIDGE DOWN IN FLAMES!" The headline was actually just that there was
a small fire at the base of the bridge caused by some homeless man, but Braker
said that you had to lie to get people to buy the papers. Four people
approached me and bought it. Lying, which was a learned sin in Church, actually
did work, people believed me and actually bought the papers, without even
checking to see if the headline was right.
The day
went pretty smoothly, despite getting yelled at by Dash and a few customers a
couple times, and I got the jist of what being a newsie is really like.
*****
It was our
first thanksgiving, and what a cold bitter one that turned out to be. The man
downstairs from us was a repair man, but had managed to forget to repair the
heating pipes and so for the week before Thanksgiving we had been bundled in
our warmest clothing even just to walk around the frigid apartment. It didn't
help though, we could still feel the cold bare wood through our socks as we
wandered the rooms. It became a dash to find the nearest chair or place above
the floor. Sleeping on the floor was horrible in itself, putting your whole body
to the test of the ice floor.
Usually
Thanksgiving was spent in happy times, with loads of food to fill our plates,
and laughter and merriment alight in our small cottage. We'd have friends over
sometimes, as we had last year, but this year was different. We barely had any
food, just a small turkey Pa managed to get for us at the market before
disappearing for the night down to the bar. Ma had scraped up enough money so
we could get some canned cranberry sauce (more like a jelly), some bread for
the stuffing, and a couple potatoes which had a dozen eyes which had to be cut
out, along with big brown spots.
Mother sat
at the head of the table, where Pa would have sat, and Aidan sat opposite her.
Pa was at the bar, too busy to take part in any kind of family festivities, and
it was showing on Mother's face. She was upset, but she put on a watery smile
for the children and said Grace.
"Lets go
around and tell everyone what we're thankful for." Mother piped up, her voice
shaking a little. "We'll start with you Aidan."
Aidan
looked down at his plate and glanced around at the waiting faces of his
siblings. "Well, I am happy for this food, and that I can spend the day with my
family, and for my apartment." He shrugged, hoping this was the right thing to
say. We went down the line, Jack saying he's thankful for the food, although
muttering that he liked Thanksgiving much better last year, Siobhan was
thankful for her new friends and that Mama was happy, oh and that the food was
"delirious." We all had a good laugh at that one and Mother actually seemed
happy. Francis was "fankful that no one sick and no one mean and food is very
yummy to my tummy." He had a giggling fit and, being contagious as laughs are,
everyone joined in. Jude just gurgled and smiled and threw stuffing at Francis,
and then it was my turn. I said the usual, thanks for the food, and for our
health, but I'm very thankful for my friends and my job, no matter how many
times I got yelled at. Mother smiled at us all, and started to eat. We all ate
silently, picking at the food until it was all gone so we could please mother.
"I'll do
the dishes Ma, you just go kick back your feet and relax." It had been a hard
day for Mother, dealing with Pa leaving, and cooking to make everything perfect
for us. Aidan took over the role of doing dishes and I cleaned off the table.
It was not the best dinner but it was more than we had had for months. Everyone
had a smile on their face, even Mother. I doubt she was missing Pa at that
moment.
Around 10
o'clock everyone was getting ready for bed. I had a busy selling day the next
day, and then I had to run into Manhattan before dinner to talk to some of the
boys over there. I was putting Francis back in bed, and Mother was sitting
watching everyone sleeping. Suddenly you could hear Pa, banging his way through
the apartment, hollering for Mother to open the fucking door. I glanced at
Mother who's face was calm, but a deadly calm. If Pa was lucky, he'd live to
see another day. He started to bang on the door and Mother just sat there.
I had seen
this before in her. Back in Ireland, when he started gambling off land, she
would lock him in the basement and sit in the chair in the kitchen with a smug,
yet somehow evil look, on her face and just sit there all day, listening to his
cries. He couldn't gamble when he was in there, but this was different. He
could still drink and gamble if we left him out there, but he also couldn't
destroy something coming inside. He couldn't destroy Thanksgiving for us, and I
could see this written her face. But he still pounded and the children started
to stir. Finally, when Jack got up and told everyone he was going to let Papa
in, Mother stood up, sat him down very quickly and went to the door.
He came in
like a hurricane, screaming obscenities and charging past Mother. She just
stood back and looked coolly after him. I could tell what was going to come
next. Pa was lucky he didn't go into the kitchen, otherwise Mother would have
grabbed a pan or some other object and hit him over the head with it and
dragged him to a bed to pass out on for the night. But he didn't make a wise
decision when he decided to walk into the room where all the children slept.
"Where's
your Papa's big welcome? It's bloody thanksgiving and I don't get one hug from
my children! Get up you mangly muts!" He howled at the room, making us all sit
straight up, terrified. Siobhan moved quickly backwards and ended up at my feet
and soon up in my arms. Jude started to wail and Francis was confused. In
combination with their sleepy haze and the dark, they didn't recognize this
strange shouting man as their father.
Mother was
close behind him at this point when he leaned over Jude to pick her up. She
indeed had a pan, the largest in the house, and hit him hard over the head while
dragging him off so he wouldn't fall near the children. At that point most of
the children had realized this was their father and gaped at Mother as she
dragged the now unconscious man off into the other room. Mother soon emerged
and sat down, her face flushed, looking very old. She didn't want to do it, but
she was protecting her children.
That was
only the beginning of our problems with Pa's drinking. They only got worse.
