Chapter 20D

On the last Sunday evening in August, 1958, I was overseeing the early evening cleanup at the Tremont Cafe when I received a telephone call just after the dinner rush.

I stood behind the service counter talking to one of my Uncle Johnny's old railroad buddies when Grandma Rose answered the phone.

"Butch, honey?" she called from the front corner of the store, near the cash register. "You got a phone call, Butch."

"Who is it?" I asked.

"I dunno, Butch, but it's for you."

This could only be JoAnn, I thought, and I walked to the phone.

"Hello?"

"Steven? It's Martha."

"Oh, Martha! Hello. I thought you were dead!"

"Well, not yet, hon."

"Your Southern accent has totally disappeared."

"Has it? Do I sound like one of those enraged New Yorkers?"

"No, no, you sound just fine."

"What's all that noise in the background?"

"That's the juke box in this place. Is it awful, or what? Here, hold on, I'm moving the telephone into the corner behind the cigar counter, maybe that'll help. There. Is that better?"

"Yes, a little. It's a little better. Steven, I had to call all over town to find you. Doesn't anybody know where you hang out? I called your mother, and she had me call your Aunt Frances, and nobody answered, and then... well, anyway, I finally got through to you."

"Yeah, well, they don't pay very much attention to me, whether I tell them where I am or not."

"Yes, I found that out. Well... how's school? How'd your play turn out? Have you started anything for the fall?"

My play, the play I never got into? The play I told Martha I was going to take time out for?

I said, "Oh, it was, uh, really great. You know, no big deal, these things come and go. I'll be in something else soon."

"You never wrote me about it."

"No... I've been really busy with all that. Y'know?"

"Please write me, Steven, and let me know how you're doing. You have me so worried sometime. I know I don't always answer, but... you know what would happen with your folks if mail and phone calls started showing up all over. They might... I'm sorry about that, but we talked about it. It's just that I didn't hear from you for a few weeks, and you usually write, even when I can't answer."

"No, I understand that."

"Sometimes..." She cleared her throat. The tension was back in her voice again. "Sometimes I can't answer. Sometimes, I just don't know what to say to help you. But you didn't write this time, so I was just wondering, I was... I'm sorry I never come to Memphis, I'd be able to keep track if I did, but... you know, I don't feel any better about Memphis than you do. And I just don't have the money to spare."

"No, no. It's no problem, Martha, really, uh... Listen, I'll write and let you know everything. I'll write this week."

"Oh, good, I know you'll have lots of juicy news about your plays and things you're working on. And let me know if you need any information on colleges up here. I can get all you need."

"Yeah. Yeah, I will."

"Well? You're not going to tell me how you're doing?"

"Oh, uh, I'm okay. You know, there really wasn't that much to write about, and I thought you'd be so busy with all you're doing. You probably couldn't answer anyway."

She paused. Her voice dropped. "That's my fault for you thinking that way. It is. It's my fault. I'm sorry, hon."

"Couldn't be helped, I guess."

"No, it's my fault. I should -- Well, it's too late for that now, I guess. I didn't mean to let you down, but something very, very... important was happening, and I just -- I just couldn't. I didn't know how it would turn out, so I couldn't say anything."

"Yes, you said that."

"You sound different."

"Different?"

"You sound cross. You sound the way you sound when you're bored and frustrated, and hiding it."

"Oh. I guess it's because I'm in this damn restaurant tonight. You know how it is, gotta bring in that paycheck. I'm surprised they pay me for such boring work. Mostly, I just drive people around, or I just sit here."

"But you're saving up."

"Oh yes! Millions."

"No, seriously. Are you saving?"

"Yes. I'm saving plenty. Really. I have a pretty good pile in the bank right now. Enough, actually, to get up there for a while."

"And a car? You told me your Aunt Frances lets you use a car of your own?"

"Yeah."

"Well, that's great! I mean, now you can do your work and get around town and to school. And to your rehearsals! You won't be stuck on those buses any more. Does that Uncle Vic character let you take the time you need for the theater?"

"Oh, sure. Yeah. He's nice."

"Good, Steven. That's wonderful."

"Yeah, so... what's happening up there?"

"Steven... Listen, I... I had to reach you tonight, this has been on my mind for a while now, and... Steven... hon, are you there? You still there?"

"Yes, I'm here. Still here."

"Oh, I heard weird noises."

"I was moving the telephone set, Martha, it's so noisy in here."

"Oh, that's what it was. Well... Steven, I... Well, you remember I told you, none of us knew what might be happening, and my own jobs were so irregular and everything, and... Well, I might be moving to Connecticut. To Riverside, Connecticut. It's about an hour north of New York on the commuter train. On the New Haven Line."

"Oh, I see. But you can still get to New York?"

"Oh, yes, that's no problem. And I still work in Manhattan for the time being, but... Steven..."

"Yeah? I'm still here."

"I know you are... Steven... I..." Over the line, I heard her swallow hard. "Promise me, now, you won't get upset or anything. I mean, I'm not really sure how you feel about this, I'm not... I..." She took another breath. "You know, we talked. Before you left. And I -- Steven, I have so much going on up here. I can't tell if it's all falling apart at once, or all falling together at once. It seems it's been so long since I've seen you, and... I wonder if... I wonder sometimes, if you're still who you were when you were here. If you changed that much, because I don't see you. And that's just the way it is, I guess, the way it had to be. I mean, I know you've changed. You're bound to have changed."

"No, I didn't change *that* much. I improved, I hope."

"Oh, I know. I know you've done better. And I've done better, too. I had to start moving around and working on my social skills. Not be so temperamental, I guess."

"Yeah? Were you ever temperamental?"

She chuckled. "You know I was, hon. I was all the time."

"No, you weren't."

"Well... There were lots of reasons for that, Steven. And I was concerned for you. But you did so well up here. I was so proud of you. You grew up quite a lot."

"Thanks to you pushing me into it."

"Well, lord, I had to. You're so stubborn. But you're also very sweet, Steven. I don't know if you realize it, but you taught me, too. You taught me more than you can imagine. I guess -- I guess I had some growing up to do, too. Some things I had to accept. Some things I needed that I -- I didn't think I did. So we all grew up some. And I want to thank you. I want to thank you for all you did."

"Not me. You were the brains behind everything. I just followed you around."

"Yes, for a while. But you learned, I think -- I hope -- I hope you learned that you don't have to any more. I hope you learned that."

"Yes. Yes, I did."

"And I'm not exactly the perfect leader. I make mistakes."

"You never make mistakes."

"Oh, you're getting so good at buttering me up. You've certainly learned a few things yourself. On your own. And you went out looking for change, and new ideas. You're a lot more on your own than you think you are. And I'm -- I'm a lot less on my own than I thought I was. But things happened." Her voice dropped. "Lots of things happened, that I had given up on. I'm not a very good example. I kept telling you, don't give up. That's something that I -- that's something I should have been telling myself, too."

"This sounds very mysterious."

"Hm?"

"This all sounds very mysterious."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to -- I didn't mean to wander like that. I'm just so -- uncertain."

"Uncertain about what?"

"Well...

"Uncertain about what? Come on."

"Steven, a very... wonderful thing has happened. It doesn't even feel real. But a very nice thing happened."

"Okay."

Again, she swallowed hard enough for me to hear it over the phone. "Steven... I've met someone."

The juke box blared. The restaurant was crowded at the tail end of the dinner hour. The music and the customers and the clanking pots receded into nowhere. All I could hear was the telephone in my ear.

"I met him a long time ago, actually, but nothing ever really happened, you know, and then... several months ago... Steven, promise me that you won't... Oh... darn it."

"I promise. Why do you want me to promise something? You've met people before."

"Steven... I want to move in with him. For a while. A little while. And try... I want... Oh, Steven, I... I think I'm..." Her voice fell to a tense whisper. "Oh, this is so scary, it's so scary when I hear myself saying it. It's just --" She took a breath, and another. "I'm pretty sure we're going to get married. Before the end of October."

"... Oh... I see, well... that's..."

"That's why I had to reach you. I didn't want you to get this in the mail or anything like that, and I'm packing now. Can you believe this, all the packing I've done, and I'm packing again! But I'm... I'm so nervous! This decision just jumped up on me. I've known him for so long, but this is so sudden, it's... It just happened, it just seemed to happen after nothing for so long. He's talked about it for weeks and weeks, and I kept saying no, wait, it's such a big change, it changes everything. I couldn't even tell Ronnie. Not at first. Not all of it, not until yesterday. But I told him --" She breathed shakily, her voice almost a whisper again. "I don't believe it, I don't even believe it. I couldn't say yes, I couldn't. All I could say was I'd try, I'd try for a short time. I'd see." She stopped for a moment. I kept listening. She spoke normally again. "But I'm moving in a few days to stay with him in Connecticut, and I thought if you called I wouldn't have the phone here anymore in Manhattan, and I... Well, I just decided this weekend to say yes. And I couldn't do it without telling you, Steven... Steven? Hon?"

"Yeah. I'm here. I'm -- It's okay."

"Steven... Do you understand what I mean? I'm trying to say... Hon, it was... Well, I didn't expect it. I just didn't expect it."

"Well, sure, you... uh... you really like this guy. Right?"

"Yes, I do, Steven. I do. Not like with you, in so, so many ways, but... Well, it's just very different. My whole life has changed so quickly, it just -- I don't know how to explain it, and this isn't the time to try, but... Steven... sweetheart, I hope this doesn't... You know how much I care about you. I've been -- hon, I've been so worried! I sat up late on the phone with Ronnie, to her boyfriend's place, for hours. Hours. And she sounded so surprised, so worried. She was -- I mean, she seemed so distraught, she kept saying I was going away, she kept saying she'd never see me again. And I kept telling her no, no, it was still me, I'd always be her friend. Always. I couldn't believe she was so upset. And I kept telling her, 'But Ronnie, you found somebody and it didn't stop us, it didn't cut us off.' You know, our friendship just went back to where it was before last summer, back to where it always was. And that hasn't changed. She had new responsibilities, but it didn't change the way we felt. But you know how she is, this fear of abandonment, this thing about everything suddenly falling apart for her. But she did settle down after a while, she did start to listen, and it was okay. She realized that I'd have new responsibilities too, certainly, but that wouldn't change the way we feel." She sighed. "So, after I spent all that time getting her feeling better again, I just -- I just sat there, hanging on the phone, going crazy myself! And she ended up playing Mama to *me*. It was so strange, it was so -- And I kept telling her and telling myself over the phone, it's not really happening, not really. Not after all this time, not with someone who -- I mean, I wasn't even looking for it. I wasn't even looking."