Cinnamon Read online

  Grandmother Beverly asked as soon as I stepped into

  the kitchen. I went right to the coffee without

  responding. She made it too weak for my taste and

  even for Daddy's, but he didn't complain. I

  deliberately poured a cup and then poured it back

  through the coffee maker,

  "What are you doing?"

  "Trying to turn this tea into coffee." I muttered. "A girl your age shouldn't be drinking so much

  coffee. It's not good for you." she insisted.

  I started to look for one of my breakfast bars.

  She had moved everything around in the cabinets and

  literally nothing, not even a salt shaker, was where it had been. I started to shove things to the side more

  frantically.

  "You're messing it all up. What are you looking

  for? Just ask," she said.

  I turned.

  "My breakfast bars! Where are they?" "Oh, that garbage. It's candy. How can that be

  breakfast? I threw it all out." she admitted. proudly. "Threw it all out? I had just bought them. They

  were mine. You had no right to do that. Grandmother,

  and for your information, they have a great deal more

  nutritional value than what you and Daddy eat for

  breakfast."

  "Nonsense. Don't believe what they write on

  those wrappers." she said. "Now I'll make you some

  hard-boiled eggs." She put the pot under the faucet. I gulped some coffee and marched past her. "Cinnamon." she called after me. "Where are

  you going?"

  "I'm too late to eat breakfast." I shouted back.

  "You eat it for me."

  I rushed out of the house and to my car. My

  wheels screamed and stained the driveway with

  rubber as I accelerated. I was sure she had heard it.

  When I got to the road. I didn't head directly for school. Instead. I swung around toward Clarence's house and sure enough. I caught him sauntering along. He lived only about a half-mile from the school in the most elegant and expensive area. His house was actually as big as mine. He was surprised when I

  pulled up and honked the horn.

  "What's up?" he asked after he opened the

  passenger door. "I'm not going to school today." I

  said.

  "Oh?"

  "I have something else to do. Want to come

  along?"

  "Where?"

  "Into the city," I said. "Manhattan."

  He thought a moment and then looked back as

  if someone was watching us. He shrugged and got

  into the car.

  "I guess," he said.

  I shot away from the curb and headed for the

  thruway.

  "So what do you have to do?" he asked. "And

  don't say shopping. I hate shopping. If it's shopping,

  let me out. My mother used to drag me like a sled

  through the department stores."

  "Hardly shopping. I'm going into the city to spy

  on my father," I replied.

  "What? Why?"

  "I have a feeling he might be losing his job or

  something," I said. "He might even have lost it by

  now. He's been acting strange and it's not because of

  what's happened to my mother. He's a bundle of

  secrets, wound up tight, and he won't let me inside.

  Sometimes. I feel like I don't care anymore, but then I

  think I should."

  "Of course, you should," Clarence agreed.

  "Who else is going to care if you don't?"

  From what he had told me about his own family

  life, he didn't have a much better relationship with his

  father who was a very busy attorney specializing in

  estate planning. His mother managed the new mall

  north of Yonkers and, according to Clarence, was

  busier than his father. He had a younger sister Lindsey

  in ninth grade, but they weren't close. Most of the

  time, they walked right by each other in school, barely

  exchanging a glance. He said she was very spoiled. Funny, I thought, how you could be, so alone in

  your own home, in your our family. Just because you

  had parents, it didn't guarantee you wouldn't be an

  orphan or a stranger if your parents were so wrapped

  up in themselves. Sometimes. I thought Clarence hung around with me and listened to my moans and groans just so he could feel like he was in a real

  family, even though it was mine and not his own, "How are you going to spy on him?"

  "I know where he works. We'll hang out there."

  I explained. "Doesn't sound like you have much of a

  plan."

  "I've got to do it. If you don't want to come..." "No, it's all right. I'm fine."

  It wasn't until we reached the Wall Street area

  that I felt I might have made a very silly decision. The

  traffic, the crowds and just the size of the buildings

  made what I had planned to do look as foolish as

  Clarence had made it sound.

  "What do we do first?" Clarence asked, even

  more impressed with the task himself now.

  "Find a parking garage as close to Daddy's

  building as possible," I said. I tried to look and sound

  like I knew what I was doing, like I was in the city

  often, but of course I wasn't. Mommy didn't like going

  to the city. except to shows. I saw my first Broadway

  show with her and Daddy when I was only seven. It

  was a musical. The Phantom of the Opera, and I

  remember being so mesmerized and excited. I could

  hardly speak.

  "That's where you'll belong someday.

  Cinnamon," Mommy whispered in my ear and nodded

  at the stage.

  I wondered. Did I? Could 17

  I saw a few shows a year after that, but most of

  the time recently, it was just Mommy and me. Daddy

  was either working or meeting clients.

  Parking was the easiest part of my skimpy plan

  today. It just meant spending money, which we did,

  and then we walked to Daddy's building.

  "Have you ever been here before?" Clarence

  asked.

  "Once, a long time ago. We had a day off but

  the market was open and Daddy decided to take me to

  see his offices and all the activity. I was in the fifth

  grade. Mommy came along and afterward, she and I

  went to a show off-Broadway, The Fantastics. It was

  a very excitingday.

  "I thought Daddy had a mad, crazy job. All that

  shouting and excitement. I couldn't understand how

  anyone kept track of anything or knew what he or she

  was doing. Daddy looked like the calmest person

  there."

  Clarence listened, intrigued. He wasn't in the

  city that often, so his eyes were wandering

  everywhere, drinking in the activity, the endless flow of people, cars, the billboards and the variety of stores and restaurants. I wondered if your brain could shut down like some overloaded computer, all these sights

  and sounds coming at you at once.

  "Now what?" he asked.

  "There's a coffee shop in his building, in the

  lobby. Let's go there."

  We went in and were able to get a table close to

  the window that looked out at the lobby. Having had

  nothing for breakfast. I was hungry and ordered

  scrambled eggs and a bagel. Clarence just had some

  coffee and watched me eat. I watched the elevators.

  There were four, with a constant stream of traffi
c, but

  soon it started to taper off. Most people had already

  arrived for work.

  "What exactly do you think your father's

  doing?" Clarence asked as I ate.

  "I think he's looking for a new job. That's why

  he doesn't tell his secretary exactly where he's going

  or where he can be reached or why he didn't answer a

  page the other day," Clarence nodded.

  "Yeah, that makes sense," he said. "He's

  probably got a lot of pride and doesn't want to feel

  like some kind of failure. My father has never made a

  mistake in twenty years of practicing law."

  "Really?"

  "That's what he makes it sound like, and

  everyone who works for my mother is a half-wit." He

  smiled. "I come from a pair of regular geniuses." He made me laugh. Clarence is handsome. I

  thought. He has a twinkle in his eye that gets pretty

  sexy sometimes, whether he knows it or not. He acts

  like he doesn't. but I was always suspicious of people,

  especially boys. Their smiles and words were like

  little balls in the hands of a magician: now you see

  them, now you don't.

  When I finished eating. I paid the check and

  lingered for a few moments.

  "Now what do we do?" he asked.

  "I want to be sure he's upstairs at his desk. I'll

  call and pretend I'm a client and ask for him," I said.

  "Afterward, we can go to the magazine and

  newspaper shop and then we'll hang out and wait until

  the market closes to see what he does. We've just got

  to keep inconspicuous."

  He went to the bank of pay phones in the lobby

  and I dialed Daddy's number. His secretary answered

  and I asked for him.

  "Oh," she said. "he's just this moment left. Can I switch you to Mr. Posner who's handling his

  accounts in the interim?"

  "No," I said and hung up quickly.

  "He left," I told Clarence excitedly. "Just now!" We hurried back to the lobby and went into the

  newspaper and magazine store, pretending to be

  looking for something while I kept my eyes on the

  elevators. Moments later. Daddy emerged, He walked

  quickly toward the entrance and we shot out after him. "We've got to be careful. I don't want him to

  spot us," I said as we stepped out.

  Daddy was walking briskly down the sidewalk,

  his black wool scarf flung over his shoulders. He

  looked dapper, as dapper and handsome as Can' Grant

  in one of Grandmother Beverly's favorite old movies. "I've seen this done enough on television."

  Clarence said confidently. "Just keep a good distance

  between us and him and try to stay behind someone." Daddy never looked back, so it didn't matter.

  He crossed the street and continued down another

  busier street. Minutes later, he entered a coffee shop.

  It wasn't a very large one, but it had two big front

  windows. We could see everyone in it.

  "He's just taking a coffee break," Clarence

  muttered. "He's not visiting any new firm."

  I nodded, but Daddy strolled past the counter

  and paused at a booth. For a moment, because of the

  angle we were at, it looked like an empty one, but

  when he leaned over, we moved to our right and we

  caught sight of him greeting a woman, a very elegant

  looking blond- haired woman in a business suit. She

  seized his hand and held it as he slid into the seat

  across from her and for a long moment, they just

  looked at each other. Then Daddy smiled and sat

  back. She didn't let go of his hand.

  I felt as if the air had just leaked completely out

  of my lungs and was quickly replaced with some

  steaming hot liquid burning in my chest and up into

  my mouth. It seemed like minutes flew by and still,

  they were holding hands.

  "Maybe it's just a client," Clarence offered

  charitably. My eyes clashed with his hopeful look. "You don't hold hands with your clients," I

  managed to reply.

  We both stood there, gazing through the

  window. Whatever they were saving to each other

  pleased Daddy. His smile widened and then he leaned

  over the table to meet her halfway so they could kiss

  on the lips,

  I look at Clarence.

  "Still think that's a business meeting?" He let his eyes drift down and shook his head. "Sorry." he said.

  "Me too." I replied and turned abruptly. I walked as quickly as I could. Clarence had to

  jog to catch up. "It might still be something innocent:' he offered. "As innocent as Cain's murder of Abel," I replied. The tears in my eyes felt like they were frozen, stuck against my pupils, making the world appear foggy around me.

  Mommy's lying sick and broken in a hospital room, was all I could think. It made my throat close.

  I crossed the street quickly, nearly running toward the parking lot now.

  "It's amazing that you decided to come into the city and be down here just at the right time," Clarence said trying to slow me down.

  I stopped abruptly, so abruptly he almost stepped into another pedestrian.

  "No, it's not really."

  "What do you mean? You knew about this?"

  "No. The spirits in the house made me go. The moment I woke up this morning, it was as if someone had whispered in my ear during the night or just before I woke up telling me to go. I felt pushed along."

  "You're kidding, Aren't you?"

  "No. I'm not. They look after me," I said. I walked on. Clarence hurrying to catch up again.

  "You really believe there are spirits in your house? I thought that was just something you wanted people to believe, something we had fun spreading around."

  "It is fun. but I do believe it now. Yes." I said. I paused at the entrance to the parking lot. "You'll come over one night this week and go up to the attic with me and decide for yourself."

  "Really?"

  "Unless you're afraid," I said.

  "No," he said shaking his head. He looked back in the direction of the coffee shop and then looked at me again. "No." he repeated, but this time. he didn't sound as confident.

  "I've got to stop by the clinic to see my mother," I said. "Will you be all right waiting in the car?"

  "Sure."

  "Thanks," I said.

  One of my frozen tears broke free and trickled icily down my cheek, but I had turned away in time to hide it from Clarence.

  I didn't want anyone to see me crying over what Daddy was doing. Sometimes sadness had to be kept as secret as love.

  Sometimes, they were one and the same.

  "Don't worry about me," Clarence said after I parked the car at the clinic. "I'll read what I was supposed to read for today's social studies class."

  He smiled to give me some warm

  encouragement. All the way back from the city. I was quiet and didn't respond to any of his attempts to make conversation. I kept seeing Daddy kissing that woman in broad daylight, in a public place, unafraid or unconcerned. Maybe he thought no one knew him there anyway, or maybe he thought what if someone did? What was he or she going to do, call Mommy in the mental clinic to report it?

  I nodded at Clarence and stepped out of the car. The partly cloudy day had turned into a nearly overcast sky with a much colder wind blowing into my face. I could feel winter crawling up my spine, its icy fingers sliding over my neck and shoulders. Zipping up my jacket. I started toward the building, not knowing north from south, east from west. I moved like someone in a trance, as though t
he upper part of me was being carried forward against its wishes. Glimpsing myself in the window of another car I passed in the parking lot. I saw how I was holding my shoulders and my head back.

  Now, I was sorry I had eaten so much for breakfast. I ate more out of nervousness than hunger, and after seeing Daddy with that woman, all the food in my stomach had turned into balls of lead. It wanted to roll back up my throat and out of my mouth. My legs were so heavy I could barely lift my feet to go up the short stairway to the front doors. I hesitated, took a deep breath, and then entered.

  An elderly woman was being escorted through the lobby toward the hallway that led to the elevator. The nurse with her gazed at me and smiled. When the elderly woman saw me, she seized the nurse's hand and stopped walking.

  "It's Ida," she cried. She looked like she was an instant away from bursting into happy tears.

  "No, no. Rachael. That's not Ida."

  "Sure it is. Ida, where have you been? I've been worried sick over you, dear," she told me.

  The nurse smiled at me and shook her head.

  It was as if there was a button in my head that when pushed would open up the world of pretend. Maybe that was what all actors had in their heads.

  "I was away." I said. "I came as soon as I could."

  "Oh, dear. dear. I was worried about you, a young woman, all alone in Europe. Did my sister take good care of you?"

  "Yes," I said. "And all she did was talk about you."

  "Did she? That's nice. You have to tell me all about it," she said. She will," the nurse said. "after your nap."

  "I will," I promised. "After you rest."

  "Good. Don't forget now." She reached for me and I took her withered hand. The fingers were so slim, her paper thin skin seemed to have nothing between it and the bones. Her happiness gave her the strength to squeeze tightly. "I'm so glad you came home. dear. It's just the two of us now, just the two of us."

  I smiled at her.

  "We'll be fine," I said.

  "Yes. We'll be fine." She nodded and then she continued along.

  The nurse looked back at me with a smile of gratitude and then led her on toward the elevator.

  I had a chill, a shudder running through me for a moment. when I envisioned that old, confused lady could be my mother years from now.

  There was a new girl at the reception desk. I didn't pretend to be my mother's sister this time. I told the truth and she called up and then told me to wait because the head nurse was coming down. It put a panic in my chest and for a moment. I couldn't breathe.

  "Why? What's wrong?" I demanded.

  "Mrs. Fogelman will be here momentarily," the receptionist said. She nodded toward the pair of settees behind me. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable?"