Part 38 (1/2)
”The Virgin Mary.”
”Who is your second favorite?”
”That Greatest and Bravest of all fighter pilots-Bull Meecham,” Bull said; then he made a sweeping gesture of dismissal with his arm. ”O.K., the game is over, Mary Anne. Go knit bootees for your first kid or something. You're starting to bother me.”
”Hey, Dad?” Mary Anne asked.
”Vamoose, Sayonara, Adios, Au Revoir, and beat feet it out of here,” Bull snapped..
”Am I a Meecham, Dad? Can girls be real Meechams? Girls without jump shots. Or am I a simple form of Meecham? Like in biology. Mary Anne, the one-celled Meecham. Or maybe I'm higher than that. Maybe I'm a coelenterate Meecham.”
”Yeah, Mary Anne, you're a simple form of Meecham. You're a girl. Now scram. I'm starting to lose my temper. I'm gonna give you a break and just pretend you're not here. I'm not gonna listen to you or answer when you speak,” Bull said, hiding himself behind newsprint once more.
Mary Anne began a slow, arduously clumsy dance that began to accelerate as she circ.u.mnavigated her father's easy chair. What began as a dramatically delusory ploy to recapture her father's attention turned into a sad tarantella of girlish desperation. She began to sing as she danced around him. ”h.e.l.lo, Dad,” she sang, tickling beneath his chin as she circled him. ”h.e.l.lo, Dad, it's me, your invisible daughter. You can't see me, but I'm always here. I'm always here, Daddy-poo. I can't shoot a hook shot. Or a jump shot. I can't drive down the lane or score the winning bucket. But I'm here anyway. Yoo hoo. Dad. It's me. It's the Phantom. Yes, it's Mary Anne the phantom girl, the real ghost of the old Huger Mansion. I'm always here hovering about, unseen, unheard, and unspoken to. Dad? Dad?”
”Beat it, Mary Anne, you caught a bad case of the weird somewhere today,” the face behind the newspaper ordered.
Mary Anne knelt down and hugged her father around the knees. He made no response to her gesture at all.
”Dad, I have something very important to tell you,” she said, in a voice that could not stop singing. ”I'm pregnant, Dad. Yes, it's true. I'm pregnant.”
She stopped and waited for the newspaper to drop beneath eye level. Bull was reading an account of a Celtic-Knickerbocker game that had gone into overtime.
”You didn't hear me, Dad. I'm pregnant. I'm going to have a baby.”
Rising again, Mary Anne resumed her dance around the chair. This time she pulled at her father's earlobes and tousled his hair. ”I'm pregnant with your grandchild, Dad.”
”Get off my back, Mary Anne. Go to the kitchen and help your mother fix dinner. All I want to do is read the G.o.ddam paper.”
”I'm pregnant by a Negro, Daddy. A huge, fat-lipped, kinky-haired Negro named Rufus. Did you hear me, Daddy? Your son-in-law is a Neeeegrooow. And your little high yellow grandchild is going to come up to you and say 'Pappy.' I didn't want to tell you this, Dad, but since we're baring our souls to each other, I feel I ought to tell you he's also a pacifist. A pacifist h.o.m.os.e.xual. But you'll get to like him after a while. Dwarfs are easy to like. Especially when they're crippled. And r.e.t.a.r.ded.”
”Cut your yappin', Mary Anne. Go do your homework,” her father said.
”I'm leaving, Dad. But I want you to know I can see through your gruffness,” she said, reaching the first stair. She had stopped her song. ”I can see right through it. And I want you to know that I understand. Just me. Just me.”
As Ben awaited his father's call to dinner, he lay on his back, shooting a basketball toward the ceiling of his room over and over again. It was the wrist snap he worried about most before a game. If the wrist failed him, then the touch had fled and he would be forced to challenge the tall men who dwelled beneath the basket with swift drives that they would quickly move to intercept. Karen opened his door softly and asked, ”Can I come in, Ben?”
”Sure, Karen,” Ben answered, although he was somewhat puzzled by her visit. When he saw her entering the room, Ben realized how very few times he and Karen had ever spoken to each other without another member of the family being present. ”How's school going?”
”Fine. I'm the third smartest girl in the seventh grade.”
”That's nice, Karen,” Ben said.
”Guess what, Ben.”
”I give up.”
”I had my first period this week. That means I'm a woman now. That's what Mom said anyhow.”
Ben resumed shooting the basketball toward the ceiling. Three times he shot, making sure his hand was parallel to the ceiling when he had followed through.
”What kind of grades did you get on your last report card, Karen? Mama told me you did real well.”
”Mama says I can have babies now. You can't have a baby until you've started having your period.”
”Have you talked to Mary Anne about this ... thing?” Ben asked.
”Yes. She told me you'd want to hear all about it.”
”Yeah, that's great, Karen. I'm sure glad you told me. Are you all keyed up for the big game tonight?”
”I was one of the last girls in my P.E. cla.s.s to have a period. I was beginning to think I was never going to have one.”
”Yeah, that must have been a big worry.”
”I tried to tell Matt, but he didn't even know what I was talking about. He ran away. Matt is such a child sometimes.”
”Yeah. Poor ol' Matt,” Ben said, twirling the basketball on his middle finger. ”Hey look, Karen, it's been a lot of fun talking to you, but I've really got to get my mind on the game.”
”I'm going to be sitting with some girl friends from my school. We'll be right under the scoreboard. Will you wave to us during warmups?”
”Sure, but you'll have to watch close because I can't let Dad or Coach Spinks see me.”
”These friends want to meet you after the game. Is that all right too?”
”Meet seventh grade peasants! Me? Of course, Karen. This is all so silly.”
”They want me to get your autograph too.”
”C'mon,” Ben said, grinning.
”No, they want it.”
”You're kidding. You're kidding. You've got to be kidding.”
”I'm not either. They made me promise to get it before the game.”
”Why do they want it? I mean, it seems ridiculous to me.”
”You're the star. Here's some paper.”
”This must be a great group of friends you've met here, Karen. They sound like real nice girls. What are their names?”
”Cynthia Waters and Mary Helen Epps.”
”O.K.,” Ben said as he wrote, speaking the words aloud. ”To Cynthia, the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on, Pa.s.sionately yours, Ben Meecham. And to Mary Helen, the most gorgeous creature on earth, Adoringly yours, Ben Meecham.”
”Thanks, Ben. They'll love that. I'll see you at dinner.”
”Before you go, Karen,” Ben said rising and walking to his window, ”do you know about ... well, let me put it this way. You know. Very simply. You were talking about how you could have a baby now. Do you know about how you have babies and all that kind of stuff?”