Old Miss Gracing by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Chapter 4
For the first time on a school day Zeke was up before his mother called. He was extremely anxious to bring his special apple to his teacher, who was quickly becoming more than he expected.
“Mom. Come on. Make my breakfast.”
“You’re early. I want to watch the rest of ‘ The Honeymooners.’”
Zeke dressed himself and sat on the floor in front of the television, to see Ralph get very contrite, sheepishly walk over to Alice, put his arms around her and say; “Baby, you’re the greatest.”
Zeke said; “Is Dad going to be home soon?”
“Yes, very soon. His team is in the playoffs again, so no telling exactly when, but it’s soon.”
“They gonna manage to blow it again?”
“Probably.” She laughed, “It’s becoming a habit. The way your father tells it, somebody always manages to do something stupid at the last minute.”
She made his breakfast and Zeke finished it quickly, going to the door in anticipation of her arrival. When it wasn’t immediate, he looked her way.
“All right, all right. Let me get my shoes on. What’s happened to you in the past two days? First you don’t want to
go and then you can’t wait. Hot or cold. Try a little lukewarm.”
When he didn’t answer she continued; “Have you finally discovered that they’re not going to torture you at school?”
Zeke stamped his foot and implored; “Come on! I’ve got no time for silly questions.”
She complied and they left for the education building.
They were, as usual, holding hands but Zeke was pulling her along. When they got to the gate, he said; “Bye,” and purposefully walked into the schoolyard.
It was still early and kids were milling about, some giggling, some playing with a rubber ball and some talking in small groups. Zeke didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to speed up time. He realized that he’d gotten himself into a
“Hurry up and wait” situation, which his father told him was the single biggest part of his World War II army experience. He stopped near the middle and took a look around to see if he could locate Miss Gracing. Instead an eight year old boy, named Robert came up behind him and said; “Hey, do you have old Miss Gracing?”
Zeke didn’t appreciate the description, considered smacking him in the face, but was deterred by his size and then mumbled;
“I have Miss Gracing.” He tried to conjure up a defiant look.
“Yeah, that’s what I meant. I had her in kindergarten, too. I think everyone in this school had her in kindergarten.
My mom did, too. She’s been around for quite some time.”
Zeke couldn’t discern the purpose of this conversation, so drew a blank. In order to appear unafraid he finally came up with; “Did you like her?” his eyes glaring as if to impart that there was only one right answer.
“Everyone I know did except one goofball. He always wants to be the center of attention and thinks she didn’t give him enough.”
“Did she?”
“Probably. You know there are 35 to 40 kids in a class.
And to tell you the truth this guy isn’t the sharpest pencil around. When he says something, often people just say, ‘Very good.’ ‘That’s nice.’, ‘Glad to hear it.’ and try to find an excuse to get away as soon as possible.”
Zeke laughed; “I haven’t met anyone like that yet. Come to think of it, I haven’t met anyone yet except you and Miss Gracing”
Robert laughed; “You’ll find them. He’s far from unique.
They’re usually saying; ‘Look at me. Look at me.’”
The lineup bell finally went off and Zeke broke away, desiring to get on line as fast as his legs could carry him.
Robert said; “See ya.”
Zeke, distractedly, looked back and said the same. His quick feet enabled him to get to be the first boy on line, a change from the previous two days at the rear, now the closest to Miss Gracing. He vaguely remembered his mother’s commentary about hot and cold. He saw her walking toward him in an orange silk, knee length, clinging dress with her long gray hair swimming in the gentle zephyr. He said; “Good morning, Miss Gracing.”
She said; “Good morning, Zeke,” and looked at him with a combination smile, wrinkled brow and an air of amusement.
“I have a present for you today.”
“Well, thank you. Can you hold it until we get inside?”
Zeke was crushed for a few seconds before realizing that he could wait another long minute. After the usual procession took place, he walked right up to her desk, removed the bulge from his pants and put the special apple on her desk, as she stood there watching.
“It’s a Golden Delicious,” he said.
“It’s gorgeous. Thank you.”
“It tastes good, too.”
She laughed; “I’m sure it does. Thanks again.”
Seven or eight other kids made their way to the desk, depositing their red apples on arrival. Miss Gracing thanked each of them. One black boy named Jeremiah saw the yellow
object sitting there, pointed at it and said; “What’s that thing? That’s no apple. It must be some kind of tropical fruit.” Some of the nearby kids had a laugh, if not at the brilliance of the statement, then at Jeremiah’s inflection on delivery.
Zeke got upset. He said; “It is too an apple, a special golden one. You’re just too stupid to know.”
Jeremiah actually laughed at him saying; “Apples are red.
Violets are blue. Whoever can’t understand that must be as blind as you.”
Some other kids got a kick out of that one, too. Miss Gracing interrupted the sideshow, calmly saying; “That will be enough from both of you. Go take seats.”
Zeke was disappointed at what happened. Didn’t anyone except Miss Gracing know a special apple when they saw one? And why did they have to comment and laugh about its specialness?
Envy displayed as derision? He made sure he took a seat as far away from that loudmouth Jeremiah as possible, though he peered with contempt at the still grinning black poet. The seat happened to be right in front of Miss Gracing’s see through desk. She announced that to start the day she would read “B’rer Rabbit” to the class. What she must not have realized was that her clinging orange silk dress must have clung somewhere up high, because Zeke got the sight of a pair of legs, the likes of
which he never previously noted and Jeremiah was forgotten. She wore no type of leg covering, exposing milky, white, curvy legs.
While she was sitting and reading she took off her shoes and sometimes wiggled her toes. If asked Zeke would have to admit that he didn’t hear much of “B’rer Rabbit” that day. He figured he could always take it out of the library, which loved to cater to children. When she finished reading the book he thought that it must have been an extremely short story. She put on her high heeled shoes, stood up and straightened her dress. Zeke didn’t think she could top the last show.
The rest of the day was less stimulating with Miss Gracing playing that impossible piano. ”God,” he thought, “That thing must have a million different buttons and actions. It must take a lifetime to learn how to play it.” Everyone sang old Irish songs and played that silly rolling ball game, only this time Zeke got a few rolls of his own.
When Miss Gracing got home she found a good Simon right at her feet as soon as she opened the door. She wondered if Simon knew how lucky he was to have such a regular companion. He had her to himself at all times except when she had to work and shop. She had become a, sort of, what others might call, a recluse, initially out of necessity. She preferred the term,
“One who likes to keep to herself.” She fed the famished feline
and took off her dress to initiate her siesta. She remembered that she had bad dreams two days in a row and really didn’t want another. She had already covered the murder scene and the psychiatric institution, so maybe if she conjured up the other recurrent two before sleeping, she could then get forty winks in a cheerful place. So, she remembered the broken male body in a deep crevice on the mountain and it being impossible for anyone to get the body out. A t least that’s what she was told. She got right up to the edge and peered down the black jagged hole, noting the lack of growth on the white rock never exposed to the sun and the twisted crumpled torso at the bottom She then recalled being severely bruised and naked on a cold concrete floor, being photographed by smiling men, instructing her to assume many different positions, who seemed to relish their “work” a bit too immensely.
So much for the memorabilia stuck in her head. She drifted off, with Simon on her chest and pleasantly dreamed of being young and standing on a cliff overlooking a calm Pacific Ocean on a warm summer day. The wind was intermittent and mild, coming from the South, gently pushing her long black hair back while she watched swimmers and surfers, wondering how she could get down to join them.