Old Miss Gracing by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Chapter 13
The years went by slowly for Zeke, like everyone his age.
Without consciously thinking about it he thought that he would be about this age in grammar school forever. He was continuing to improve as a baseball player and at age eight added basketball to his repertoire. He was tricked into it. While he liked just fooling around playing in the schoolyard, he didn’t like the game enough to want to devote the time necessary for serious training.
After about a year of hounding by his father, he exhausted all of his objections and finally succumbed to his father’s statement that he’d be playing with the same people he played baseball with.
He found that nothing could have been further from the truth, but he learned to enjoy the game most of the time after playing it a while.
Miss Gracing had a few interesting pupils in her classes.
In particular she liked one little girl she had the year after Zeke. She had a stoic face, which was the initial hint that her outlook was disdainful and resolute. At times she would fold her arms over her chest and give an askance look when one of her classmates said something she considered stupid. She also occasionally would laugh uproariously when no one else heard anything particularly funny. A few times Miss Gracing called on Morrigan Dempsey to explain her feelings of frivolity. Morrigan
could never stop laughing long enough to say any coherent words, waving her arms back and forth across her chest, finally saying;
“I can’t explain,” and then resorting to her doubled-over convulsions.
This made many of the other kids uneasy or derisive.
Perhaps it was her fair skinned Irish beauty and long flipping black hair that made her feel impervious to anyone’s remarks.
Perhaps she merely thought that they were somewhat retarded.
She interested Miss Gracing enough that she became a not infrequent visitor whom Simon would come to know very well.
Morrigan’s conversations were extremely interesting but followed a different pattern than that of Zeke. While he would very directly say what his problem was, she would be vague and effluent with her manner of conversation, somehow incorporating happiness, sadness, curiosity and disinterest all at the same time. Miss Gracing thought she understood and decided that she would like to see how Zeke and Morrigan would get along. They had two very big things in common; an unusual view of the world and she was each one’s only real friend.
During their first joint visit they both sat very controlled at Miss Gracing’s table, who led the disjointed non-conversation as best she could. She broke away to take care of Simon, leaving them alone at the table. Both fidgeted and looked around the room wishing Miss Gracing would hurry back.
Zeke finally said; “I’m beginning to play baseball well this year.”
Morrigan said; “So what?”
“So nothing.”
They still sat there nervously fidgeting, but now they were also annoyed.
Zeke said; “What do you do that’s so special?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“I bet I would. It’s probably nothing at all.”
“You wouldn’t know.”
“That’s why I asked, stupid. Tell me what’s so wonderful about you.”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, give it time. What’s so fascinating about baseball, anyway?”
Zeke had no easy answer, but wanted to pursue the only opening he had gotten, so he started an essay answer. “You get to stand around in the warm sun and still look like you’re doing something, even though you’re staring into space. If you weren’t “playing” baseball and stood in the sun staring into space, people would start asking if you were all right.”
She made one of her patented doubled over laughs, which went on for ten seconds.
Zeke said; “What’s so funny?”
She made one of her non-responses, but in a few seconds, added to it: “I think I’d like to learn how to play baseball, too. Can you show me?”
This proved to be the beginning of an on again, briefly off again long term relationship, wherein no matter how vexed one could be at the other, they could always trust the honesty of the other’s responses. They found that they were continually drawn back.
Zeke would continue to drop in on Miss Gracing bringing with him some complaint or other, expecting that she would somehow resolve it and was never disappointed. By the third grade he was getting exposed to subjects with which his mother had not acquainted him, so more concentration became necessary at school. However, he didn’t let that deter him from frequent-ly seeing Morrigan at Miss Gracing’s apartment. Morrigan forgot about her interest in learning baseball, as she decided that if she felt like being in the sun staring into space, she didn’t need a subterfuge to do it. Zeke would still see Miss Gracing walking at the river, sometimes and would approach with trepidation, respecting her desire to be allowed some alone time outdoors. His grades dropped off, but that didn’t give him any problem as his mother thought that the only subjects that mattered were reading, writing and arithmetic and his father
shared the opinion of his wife, as usual. Morrigan excelled at all subjects, as it was her way of proving to her detractors that she was superior. Zeke probably got the same thing out of baseball. Miss Gracing enjoyed their periodic spats wherein Morrigan would say that she was smarter than Zeke and he would invariably stick his tongue out at her, make a stupid face and then seriously say; “There are things to be learned from sports that you’ll never know anything about.”
Morrigan would always say something like; “Such as?” or
“Pray tell, what?” Zeke’s response would invariably be some derivation of; “The value of teamwork and also its limitations.”
Miss Gracing often thought happily about her successful kiddie introduction and would always further that thought with a part of her own life. When she escaped the institution she found her way to the freight yards and headed west. The trip was long and hard without regular access to food or water, but it was her only option. As a young woman, she had heard numerous references to people, many criminals, hiding out in Albuquerque, New Mexico, so this became her destination.
When Bonnie got there she made regular use of the public showers and found that she could get some shelter and regular food at the churches. Checking the local papers, she soon found out that there were numerous openings for grammar school teachers who didn’t get paid much anything. But, under the
circumstances, she was practical. Bonnie had a friend in college named Eloise Gracing who was killed in a car accident a year after graduation. Bonadea Carson died and Eloise Gracing was reborn, with the necessary teaching credentials.
She rented a three room adobe casita from the Gutierrez Family who lived in an eight room adobe great house on the same property. She started to relax after a few months of this existence not thinking of anyone looking for her.
She met the Gutierrez family’s oldest son, 30 year old Hector. Initially he was sent over by his family to perform various maintenance chores on the 50 year old structure and Eloise was more than a bit nervous, like when he asked her where were pictures of her family. When he didn’t push she relaxed again, enjoying his company. She liked the way he pronounced certain words differently than her and especially liked his calm, genial ease. She needed that after Marshall.
She got pickier about the condition of her casita, necessitating more and more trips from Hector. They fell in love, married and both lived in the little oasis. After a long honeymoon in the sun, Hector started having some kind of problem, though and maybe particularly because she didn’t complain. Hector thought he should be supporting his bride much better than he was. He often looked at the old wooden cross he borrowed from his parents, that was now on their wall. The
simple graying wood contained old inscriptions, a yellow reflecting material in five small sections at the top and most significantly to him, glued on coins of antiquity which contained the heads of various popes. He resolutely said; “I’m going to get a job working on the tram.”
She said, “Don’t be silly. We’ll be fine.” She had heard of a few deaths of workers falling off the rocky mountain. The tram was under construction for two years already, the promoters trying to establish a ride vacationers would enjoy at the peak of the 8,000 foot rock. Their marriage coincided with the dangerous project; two years.
“I’m not being silly,” he responded. “It pays very well and I’ll be all right. Those guys who fell off were probably drunk.”
To no avail she caressed his cheek and said; “You’re drunk in love, my brave angel.”
Words of prophecy were never better said. Eloise got a message one day that said some people from the job were going to pick her up. As she feared, there, 200 feet from the mountain top lay Hector’s broken body, motionless in a deep crevice.
After the funeral she didn’t want to stay in Albuquerque. There were too many good memories. She was also very uncomfortable with the statement, made one day by Hector’s mother. She had a few drinks and was wiping her eyes when she looked directly at
Eloise and said; “If my son didn’t marry he’d still be here with me.” She effectively blamed Eloise for the dangerous job and Eloise realized that the thought contained a certain amount of truth. So, she headed back east, this time as a paying passenger.
Her destination this time was a kindergarten teaching job in Bayonne, New Jersey. The job came relatively easily, all arrangements handled by mail. The town had a growing population of immigrants of all sorts and their children, born here, required an education.
Checking out the school, she walked around and saw the
“Apartment for Rent” sign and got a new roof over her head. The rest is history. Her only surprise was that, despite the geographical change, she could not stop thinking about Hector or the possibility of being caught. It could have been her now closer proximity to the “crime,” but more likely, it was that she lost the feeling she had in Albuquerque. There she felt like she was in another world.
At nine years of age, Zeke frequented the baseball fields and the strip of land on the river regularly. He was always tempted to rush over to Miss Gracing and tell of all his great accomplishments and failures, seeking her advice in the latter cases. There were also some things he didn’t want to discuss in
the presence of Morrigan. Though she couldn’t always address specific problems, as in baseball, she could always provide some generality that applied. Zeke didn’t understand them all at first, some bringing meaning only with the passage of time.
He’d have liked to have told her more about his passion, baseball, but didn’t think she had any interest.
At one meeting in her apartment sans Morrigan he ventured;
“Miss Gracing, I batted .292 this year. That’s the highest average ever hit by a nine year old.”
“That sounds very good, Zeke. What’s the highest average ever hit by a ten year old?”
Zeke found the question surprising and not what he had hoped for. He wanted a venue to say how wonderful he was.
Consequently he said; “I don’t know. Probably whatever I hit next year.”
There was a cessation of the mild southerly wind, which mimicked the pause in conversation.
Zeke finally said; “You don’t know much about baseball, do you, Miss Gracing?”
“Frankly, no. I’m sorry.”
“Would you like to learn about it?”
She gave him a discerning look, then mildly laughed and said; “Not really.” She paused again, before adding; “All right?”
Zeke noted the reluctant acquiescence, didn’t want to
“torture” his friend, even though he was dying to tell her of his heroics and said; “Never mind, it takes forever to explain that stupid game anyway. You know, Morrigan and I are very good friends.”
She just looked at him, questioningly.
He added; “Most of the time.”
She smiled and asked; “Do you know what’s going on when you don’t get along?”
“No. I’ve thought about it lots of times, but I can’t be certain of anything. She’s weird, sometimes.”
“Weird?”
“Yeah, weird sometimes and interesting always.”
In 1962 Castor Courtney’s routine hadn’t changed much, except that one thought fixed in his mind. Pushing into his sixties he realized he didn’t have all the time in the world left to fulfill his life’s mission. Since he hadn’t accomplished it yet he concluded that whatever approaches he used in the past were useless and that a new one was called for.
But what? What could he guess at? If she wasn’t dead somewhere, she would most likely be doing what she was trained to do; teaching school. She couldn’t be using her own credentials or else he would have found her already. Maybe
she’s using the credentials of a dead person. He could use the rest of his life and another few years after that, to send inquiries to every U.S. college and ask them for a list of all their dead teaching graduates.
He needed to cut some corners and get lucky, so he made the further guess that Bonnie probably assumed the new name as quickly as possible, so she would have had to pick someone who died a long time ago. He knew of one local woman, an Eloise something that died right after college. He wished he knew what college she attended or her last name, as the family was now long gone from Corpusbury. Now he had to retrieve all the mailing addresses of every school in the country and ask them if they had ever employed a Miss Eloise something, who was probably born in 1900. His filing system added weeks to the project and curtailed his other favorite pastime; visiting the cemetery.