Kenny’s Mom
Kenny’s Mom always has the latest on who’s moving to Long Island. She smiles and rubs her arms. Soon she’ll move too. She has all kinds of brochures in the apartment with names like Elmwood, Maplecrest, Oak Park – those Long Island names of towns like trees with beautiful new homes full of lawns and flowers, everywhere, with quiet peaceful streets at night, so hushed and lush.
Kenny’s Mom dreams about planting azaleas, camellias, mimosas, and marigolds. She figures in two years they will have they money saved. Kenny’s Dad got a raise won in the long nine month machinist strike, just as she though at the time, even though she wondered, unsure. Soon they will move, have their own home. A whole house. With a backyard. There won’t be an apartment number, noise, radiators, leaks. In the evenings, Kenny will water the lawn. She’ll watch the arcs of water, like fountains in the blue-green light.
Kenny’s Mom awakens from her nap, startled. The phone rings, ring, ringing.
Who is calling so late? Who in the world? It’s past eleven; she’s waiting up for her husband. Fear touches her like the winter sleet. She hates telephones late at night.
She picks it up, shuddering. The voice tells all. OH GOD, it’s the voice of police or company people use, calling her Mrs. Ross and try to sound like everything is ok; oh God it is, it’s her husband he’s been in an accident. She’s getting on her shoes and coat already hanging up calling her sister three blocks down OH GOD FRAN to come watch the kids and call her a cab while she goes to get a neighbor to watch her apartment until her sister comes, all the time saying OHGOD OH JESUS wishing they would have told her what part of his body is hurt where is he hurt how bad something more than you just better come down right away.
The Rosses aren’t moving. Kenny’s Dad was hurt real bad. They were able to sew one of his fingers back on and save his thumb. He can still keep a grip, sort of.
His company kept him on as a night watchman. The hours are not the greatest in the world- 1am ’til 7, but, still, a job’s a job.
Kenny’s Mom says Long Island can be very swampy. Parts are lovely, true, but when you come right down to it, much is quite overpriced, especially southern Long Island with some homes built on filled-in bay! Why, the first big storm and all those playrooms and family rooms slabbed on fill like the ones the Adelsons bought this summer, why they’ll fill up with water and FLOOD, wait and see. Someone said at the new Long Beach houses in the big storm last March they found lost wild ducks from nearby marshes paddling by peoples’ ping pong tables!
Besides, there’s nothing wrong with living in an apartment. And isn’t it crummy when some people move and all of a sudden they don’t know you and get all hoity-toity because now they have a lawnmower and live “Out on the Island.” After all, it’s not the house or apartment, when you come right down to it, but what and who is inside a place that really counts. That’s the important thing in life.