Under the Elevated
By Loretta Morris
Chapter 1
Jack
2014, Day 1
“On my count, nice and gentle, …one…two…three.”
Two paramedics expertly and smoothly transferred the emaciated frame of the patient from the ambulance gurney onto the waiting hospital bed in room 9 of Seasons of Change Hospice. A nurse, dressed in cheerful pink scrubs, tended to the blankets, covering his shoulders, and then gently pulling cotton socks onto his cold, bare feet. The soft strains of a serene violin concerto complimented the shadowy, yellowish illumination of a low wattage lamp tucked in a corner of the otherwise darkened room. Unable to speak, the patient blinked wildly and balled his hands into fists.
“Shhh, shhh, don’t worry anymore,” the nurse whispered, and placed the back of her hand on his cheek, both to calm him and check for fever. “There you go, John, we’ll make you comfortable now.” She gently stroked his forearm where deep purple bruises in full ugly bloom had been left by the combination of hospital restraints and the side effect of blood thinners. “Your family should be arriving any time now.” She reached for a comb on the bedside table.
“Let’s get you all handsome for them.”
He shook his head.
“Shh, shh, John, we’ll get you something to help you settle down in just a few minutes.”
John? Who’s John?
“Oh, here they are, just like I promised.” The nurse smiled, turning to the group of the patient’s three adult children hesitating at the door. “Come in, come in,” she motioned, “You must be John’s family. We’re just getting him settled in. He seems a little agitated, probably from the ambulance ride and the new surroundings. I’ll go see what the doctor ordered for him.”
That’s not my name…she’s a liar…that’s not my name! She’s a liar…. She’s…..
“Call him Jack,” his son Tom offered, visibly weary after the sudden but expected turn of events regarding his father’s failing health. “No one calls him John. Jack’s the only name he’s ever used.” He took his father’s cool and dry hand, and held it tight, trying to quell the shaking. “Call him Jack.”
1927
Jackie Callihan gazed out the open window of the Paulina Street two-flat. The colossal church across the street sat silent and lonely on this weekday afternoon, stoically tolerating the sweltering late summer heatwave. It dutifully blocked the afternoon sun, but a slight breeze stirred the Irish lace curtains just for a moment, delivering a bit of merciful, but fleeting relief.
Jackie wasn’t concerned with the temperature, though, six year olds usually aren’t. He wasn’t in awe of the imposing church either, with its towering steeple and massive brick façade. It was as unimpressive to him as Grandma’s dinner rolls – just there everyday. He attended mass there with his Ma, Grandma, aunts and uncles on Sundays and Holy Days of Obligation, and sometimes with Grandma for no reason at all. Today it baked in the sun, like everything else, waiting for cool relief from a God that wasn’t about to grant it.
It was the building across the church courtyard, St. Columbkille Elementary School, fully awake and buzzing with activity, that captivated him. The Sisters and lay teachers, along with their eighth grade helpers, scurried in and out in a steady stream, like ants delivering food to the colony, with stacks of textbooks and boxes brimming with supplies, frantically preparing for opening day. His Aunt Mamie was there helping out, since she was entering eighth grade.
The calendar that Grandma had tacked up on the wall caught his attention when the merciful breeze made this month’s page flutter. Tomorrow’s date, Tuesday, September 6, 1927, circled in bright red, marked his first day, a day he had been anticipating for weeks.
“Hey Jackie!” His best friend, Danny O’Connor, hollered up from the scorching sidewalk below, “Hey Jackie, come on out!”
“Where’d ya get that dog?” called Jackie in return. A shaggy black dog of unrecognizable breed sniffed at the pocket of Danny’s baggy knickers, the dog’s sad, droopy eyes conveying disappointment at their state of emptiness.
“He was just sitting in my backyard this morning. I gave him a bite of my apple and he’s been following me around all day.”
“You gonna keep him?”
“Ma says over her dead body. Come on out!”
“I gotta tell my Grandma.” Jackie grabbed his newsboy cap, a present for his sixth birthday from an unidentified friend of the family, off the lowest hook on the hall tree, and called, “I’m going out to play with Danny!”
Dehlia Callihan, dressed in her usual black despite the heat, sat at the head of the kitchen table scraping a mound of carrots for supper. She wiped her brow with a kitchen tea towel and took a puff of her cigarette. “You stay away from the big boys and be home by 6:00 or I’ll be getting after ya with the broom!” Her thick Irish brogue echoed down the short hallway as the door slammed and Jackie raced down the inside staircase and out the front door to the sidewalk before the words were out of her mouth.
The boys and dog sprinted across busy Paulina Street, dodging cars and trucks, and continued south towards the Lake Street elevated tracks, passing St. Columbkille’s convent as they happily tripped along.
“Hello Sisters!” they called as they passed Sister Margaret Anne, the principal of the school, who walked arm-in-arm with a young nun they’d never seen before. The pair was headed in the direction of the convent as well, yards and yards of fabric of their matching ebony habits billowing in the wind like drops of India Ink blossoming in water.
“Well, if it isn’t Themselves!” answered the ancient Sister Margaret Anne, squinting into the sunshine and shading her eyes. “And what shenanigans might you two lads be up to on your last day of the summer?”
“No shenanigans, Sister,” A gap in Jackie’s smile indicated a recent visit from the tooth fairy.
“No shenanigans, Sister,” repeated Danny, staring down at the mutt.
“Hmm … You I believe, Jackie, but it’s Danny I’m not so sure of.” Sister Margaret Anne winked at her companion. Bending to pet the dog, she added, “And who might this sorry creature be?”
Now Danny smiled, “He keeps following me. I named him Spike.”
“Spike?” She inspected the mongrel. “Spike. Yes. I think it suits him.” She turned her attention to the young nun. “Boys, this is Sister Mary Brigid. She’ll be your first grade teacher.”
“Hello Danny, hello Jackie.” Sister Brigid looked from one boy to the other, “I’m pleased to meet you two. Are you looking forward to starting first grade?”
“Nah,” blurted Danny.
Sister Margaret Anne raised her eyebrows and glared down at him through spectacles perched precariously at the tip of her nose.
“I mean, no Sister….I mean… I mean… yes Sister,” he sighed, defeated, and stuffed his fists deep into his pockets.
Sister Brigid smiled and turned to Jackie. “And how about you, lad?”
Jackie just stared at the nun as if the rest of the world suddenly disappeared, her smooth glowing face beaming in sharp contrast to Sister Margaret Anne’s sharp wrinkles and hard lines, her voice soft and melodic. “Ummm …Yes…Yes Sister.” He felt his ears heating up, and was certain they were now as red as the tail of the Devil himself.
Sister Margaret Anne, sensing Jackie’s sudden infatuation, came to his rescue, waving her hands as if to brush the boys away like crumbs off a countertop. “Be off with you two now, we can’t spend all day talking on the street in front of God and everyone. There’s much work still left to be done. We’ll see you bright and early.”
“Good-bye Sisters,” the boys responded together, and then continued their race toward the elevated tracks.
***
“Ready? Here it comes!”
“Ready!”
As the train roared overhead, temporarily deafening everyone on the ground below, the boys each took a deep breath, squeezed their eyes shut, and screamed at the top of their lungs, “Sonofabitchdamnhellshit!” then laughed and laughed when the train rumbled past. Between trains they chucked rocks at the iron supports of the elevated tracks, shouting, “Got it!” when they heard a loud clunk which meant they had hit their mark.
The afternoon wore on, and soon the sidewalks were thick with tired looking men heading home from their long day’s work. Some had exited the elevated station, and some had stepped out of a city streetcar, but all shuffled along the searing sidewalks on their way to their equally searing houses and apartments.
“Hey Jackie, look over there. It’s your Uncle Tom,” said Danny, pointing toward a break in the crowd. Tom Callihan, all six feet three inches of him, and wearing his sturdy work uniform and heavy boots, cut a fine figure. Dehlia had often said that when he was born God blessed him twice with a bit of the handsome, and then once more for good measure. Walking towards his home from the streetcar stop, he had stopped and was talking to a man that neither boy recognized. “Who’s that?” Danny asked, “I’ve never seen him before.”
“Do you think you know everybody in Chicago?” Jackie asked.
“No, but I know everybody around here,” Danny stated with authority, “and I don’t know him.”
That statement wasn’t far from the truth. Being the youngest of nine meant that just about everyone in the neighborhood had at one time or another crossed paths with an O’Connor, and Danny, the eternal tag-a-long and self-appointed town crier, remembered every last one.
The stranger finally handed Tom an envelope, then parted without so much as a handshake or a pat on the back.
“C’mon, let’s go say hi.” said Jackie.
Although Tom’s apartment building was only a few blocks away from the Paulina Street two-flat, Jackie missed him terribly since he married his new Aunt June a few weeks ago and moved. “Uncle Tom! Uncle Tom!” Jackie ran to his uncle with Danny and Spike in tow.
Upon hearing his name, Tom stopped and set down his metal lunch pail. Jackie ran into his uncle’s brawny arms, and Tom hoisted him effortlessly into the air. “Ugh! You’re gettin’ heavy, lad,” he gasped, feigning weakness, “Soon you’ll be the one pickin’ me up!” Jackie hugged him.
“Hey Mr. Callihan, who was that man?” Danny looked down the street and pointed at the stranger walking away. “He has on the same exact cap as Jackie. See?”
Tom looked in the direction of the man and then at Jackie’s hat. “So he does, lad, so he does.” The slightest expression of concern crossed Tom’s face, and then vanished. “Leo. His name is Leo. He’s an old friend who used to live in the neighborhood. Your brother … which one was it … Theodore … probably remembers him. They were in the same grade in school.” He set Jackie down. “By the way, Jackie, he gave me this for your Ma. I’ve got a Holy Name meeting tonight, so I can’t come over. Give it to her will you?”
“Ok,” Jackie looked at the K-A-T-E printed on the envelope and said “Kate.” He couldn’t read very many words yet, just his Ma’s name, his own name, and ‘St. Columbkille’ since it was chiseled above the massive wooden doors of the church and he saw it every time he left his home. He folded the envelope in half and stuffed it deep into his pocket.
“Don’t forget, lad, it’s important. And Jackie, don’t tell your Grandma. Just keep it between you and your ma.”
Just then, Nora, Danny’s nine year old sister, and the bossiest of the O’Connor brood, turned the corner and spotted them. Ignoring Jackie and Tom, she marched up to her brother, pigtails flying, and began scolding. “There you are! Did you take Ma’s good quilt to make a bed for that nasty dog? You better get home ‘cause you’re in big trouble! Ma’s been looking all over creation for you, and she said if you bring that smelly fleabag home she’ll skin you alive.”
Danny gulped. Being skinned alive was a common threat in the O’Connor household, and although it had yet to actually happen, he was taking no chances. “Stay, Spike, stay!” he ordered, but as soon as he attempted to leave, the mutt faithfully followed.
“I have an idea,” offered Tom. He brought his open lunch pail over to Spike, who immediately became interested, sniffing it inside and out. “Now scram, Danny, before he gets wise.”
“Thanks Mr. Callihan!” Danny and Nora turned toward home and started running. “See ya in the funny papers Jackie!”
Jackie and Tom stared down at Spike, who was licking the lunch pail clean, oblivious to the inspection he was receiving. Tom put his hands on his hips and sighed. “Give him a bath and he wouldn’t be so bad, would he? Hmm … Maybe I could take him home and clean him up. He seems friendly enough … C’mon Spike old boy, let’s go home and meet the missus.”
***
Before the six o’clock bells of St. Columbkille had even finished tolling, the Callihans were assembled around the colossal kitchen table, the single treasured piece of furniture brought over from county Cork years ago. Dehlia sat, the only time of day without her apron, at the head with Kevin and Theresa on her right. Kate and Mamie sat to her left, and Jackie occupied the foot of the table. This was a new arrangement since Tom married June, right after he got a good job at the city’s Water Department on the maintenance crew. Jackie was overjoyed to finally have a wide space of his own instead of being sandwiched in between his mother and his Aunt Mamie.
Once the final “amen” of grace had been uttered, a hearty stew made from the leftovers of Sunday’s roast, stretched with a few extra carrots, onions, and potatoes, was passed around the table. A plate of thickly sliced soda bread from Sullivan’s followed by a dish of fresh butter delivered by Mr. Quigley’s Dairy earlier in the day completed the meal. A steaming apple pie, minutes out of the oven, cooled on the counter by the open back window.
“How was everyone’s day?” asked Dehlia, looking around the table. “You look very nice tonight, Theresa, but slow down, you’re gulping your food.”
Theresa had freshened the spit curls that framed her face, powdered her nose and shoulders, and changed into a light summer sheath-style dress when she got home from her downtown job as a stenographer. A long string of beads hung from her neck and clinked against her dinner plate each time she lifted her fork. “Thanks Ma. Joe’s stopping by any minute to take me for a ride in his automobile, and he doesn’t like to be kept waiting. I told him it was OK.” She stopped chewing and waited for her mother’s approval.
Dehlia raised an eyebrow. “Joe?”
“Ma, you remember. Joe O’Neil from the Columba Club dance. I told you about him.”
“Hmm… Well, you’re 19 years old now, a grown woman. Just be careful. You know all too well what can happ…”
“Yes Ma, I know,” Theresa quickly cut her off. She looked across the table at Kate who had put her fork down, stung by the veiled insult. “Kate, aren’t you excited about Jackie starting school tomorrow?”
Grateful for the subject change, Kate gazed at her son and smiled as he busied himself attempting to cut a large chunk of meat. If it weren’t for their clear, turquoise eyes, no one would put them together as mother and son. His dimpled chin and curly sandy colored hair set him apart from the other Callihans, a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by the gossip mongers in the neighborhood with their long, judgemental memories. “I don’t think I’m half as excited as he is.”
Jackie perked up at the sound of his name and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I saw my teacher today. Sister Brigid. She’s brand new. I think she’s pretty but it’s hard to tell.”
“It’s because you can’t see her hair,” Jackie’s Uncle Kevin, who would be starting his sophomore year at St. Pat’s tomorrow, commented matter-of-factly with his mouth full. “It’s hard to tell if a girl is pretty or not when you can’t see her hair.” He tied his napkin around his face like a babushka covering his dark brown mane, and batted his eyelashes. Then, in his best falsetto declared, “See, if I was a nun it would be hard to tell if I was pretty or not.” He touched his index finger to his cheek and pursed his lips.
“I think you’re gorgeous, Sister Mary Kevin,” cooed Mamie as Kevin continued his suggestive pantomime.
“Why thank you, Miss Mamie,” he continued, playing the coquette.
“That’s enough, Kevin,” warned Dehlia, “Stop acting the eejit.”
“At least you have a pretty nun to look at,” Kevin continued, “I had to look at Sister Stella all day when I was in first grade. What a battle axe! And mean as a snake! I remember one time…”
“Kevin…” Dehlia growled.
“Once she smacked me right on the ear for not making a proper sign of the cross. Yow! Did that hurt! I told her that’s how we did it in our house and she smacked me again!”
Laughter erupted until Dehlia’s fist on the sturdy table made the dishes jump. “I will not have that kind of talk about the good Sisters at my dinner table!” She turned to Kevin. “You are excused.”
“Aw, Ma! I was just kiddn’ around. I never told the nuns we make sloppy signs of the cross, honest.”
“I said you are excused. And you’ll be doing the washing up in the kitchen tonight.”
As Kevin stomped away from the table, the rest of the family avoided eye contact with each other for fear of igniting a new round of laughter. Finally, Jackie broke the silence with an announcement.
“I don’t want my name to be Jackie anymore.”
“Why not?” Mamie huffed, her mood suddenly changing. “You can’t just change your name. If you could, I would have done it a long time ago.”
“There’s nothin’ wrong with your name, Mamie darlin’,” Dehlia interjected, “Never mind what that boy said.” When Mamie was three years old she fell down the steep back stairs and broke her hip, leaving her with a pronounced limp. One of the neighborhood boys called her ‘Lamie Mamie’ when she started kindergarten. Dehlia got after him with the broom and he never bothered her again, but Mamie was never able to forget it, even after all these years. “Now, let the lad speak.”
“Jackie’s a baby name. Just call me Jack from now on.” He looked from person to person around the table to gauge their reactions, hoping for approval. He wanted Sr. Brigid to think of him as a big boy, not a little kid.
“Oh, Jackie,” sighed his mother, “ You’re growing up so fast.”
“Is it OK?” Jackie asked, sensing his mother’s sadness, but not quite understanding it.
“Of course it’s OK, but it’s going to take some getting used to.”
“Well, then it’s settled,” decreed Dehlia, “’Tis a grand name.”
***
“Jack, are ya scrubbin’ every square inch?”
“Yes Grandma!” Jack called back through the bathroom door, immediately submerging himself up to his chin in the deep clawfoot tub doing exactly what his Grandma ordered, for fear that she would come in and see to it herself. “I’m scrubbing!”
“Hurry yourself up, lad, Mamie needs to get a bath as well.”
Sufficiently scoured and wrinkled, he stepped out of the tub and dried himself off with a rough towel. After flexing his muscles in the mirror, he put on his pajamas, brushed his teeth and combed his hair, taking care to plaster down his vexing curls with a dollop of Kevin’s gooey pomade.
He stepped into the hallway and yelled for his aunt. “Mamie, I’m out!” The rest of the house was as quiet as church on a Monday afternoon. Dehlia had gone out to the front stoop to congregate with the neighbor ladies to fan herself and rehash the events of the day, and Theresa was still on her date with Joe. Kevin was off with his friends doing ‘God only knows what with God only knows who’ as Dehlia would say.
“Ma!”
“I’m out here Jackie! I mean Jack!” A bewildered Kate sat on the steps of the back porch, her shoes and stockings off, deep in thought after reading the letter that Jack had dutifully delivered to her right after supper. Her mending basket, though full, sat ignored.
Jack plopped down next to her and noticed the corner of a ten dollar bill sticking out of the envelope. “Holy Mackerel! Ten dollars! What’s this for?” He picked up the bill and examined it as closely as the fading light allowed. He had never before held such a fortune.
Kate took a deep breath and blinked several times. “It’s actually for you, for your new school shoes and uniform.” She took the money and placed it back in the envelope with the letter.
“But I already have a uniform and new school shoes. Remember, Grandma made me go shopping with her? Does that mean you have to give back the money?”
“No . . . I think we’ll just put it in the Holy Card box and save it for a rainy day. You never know when ten dollars might come in handy.”
“Ok,” Jack shrugged. “Hey Ma, is that money from the same man who sent me the cap for my birthday? He was wearing one just like mine when he gave Uncle Tom that envelope. His name is Leo and he used to live in the neighborhood.”
A stunned Kate sat up straight, as if she had been poked by a nun for slouching at Mass, and stared at her son. “You saw him? You know his name? I thought you told me Uncle Tom gave you this letter. Where did you see …um… the man…um…Leo?”
“Under the elevated. He was talking to Uncle Tom, but it didn’t seem like they were friends or anything. Uncle Tom looked kind of mad about something. Well, not really mad, but you know, he had that look he gets.”
“Yes, I know the look well. Did you talk to him? Did he see you?”
“No. Me and Danny just saw him for a minute. He was already gone by the time we got there. Why does he give me things, Ma? Doesn’t he have a boy of his own to give things to?”
Kate bit her bottom lip and looked up at the full moon. “Oh, he’s got a boy. He’s just generous, I guess.”
Jack shrugged. “That’s nice.”
“Yeah it is.” Kate’s brow wrinkled a little, just like it always did when she was thinking hard about something. “Jackie … Jack, there’s something I need to talk to you about. You see…”
Jack interrupted, “Can I meet him so I can say thank you? Uncle Tom told me he used to go to school at St. Columbkille.. Where does he live now? Maybe I can play with his boy sometime. I could show him my train set and the lucky rabbit’s foot Uncle Kevin gave me.”
“Oh, Mr. Newspaperman, so many questions tonight!” Kate forced a smile and closed the subject, slipping the envelope into the basket.
They stared at the moon and listened to the alley cats yowl for a while longer.
“Jackie?”
“Maaa… “
“Sorry. Jack. You’re growing up real fast. Can you do me one favor?”
“What?”
“Do you think I can keep tucking you in at night and saying prayers with you, or are you too big for that now?”
Jack thought about it for a moment. “Ok, but just until I’m seven. And Ma? If you still want to call me Jackie when no one else can hear you, that’s OK with me.”
Kate put her arm around her son and pulled him close, “Thank you, Jackie.”
***
Dehlia returned from early morning Mass and was in full swing preparing breakfast, scrambling eggs and slicing bread for toast. Jack was also up, much too excited about his first day of school to stay in bed a minute more than necessary. He slouched in his chair at the foot of the table, observing the commotion as all the members of the household got ready for the day, he himself dressed and ready to go.
He knew his Aunt Theresa worked in a big important building downtown in something called a steno pool, which, much to his disappointment, wasn’t a real pool at all. She dressed very fancy, with hats and gloves and rouge, and had to take the elevated and a streetcar to get there. She was always rushing around like she was late, even when she wasn’t.
His mother worked at Sullivan’s Bakery and had to wear a hair net and a pink uniform with a name tag that said Bernice because they already had a Kate. The bakery was close by, so she walked the few blocks there, and usually left when it was still dark outside. But today was special and she was going in late so she could walk him to school. Dehlia thought that was a foolish idea since they just lived across the street from the school, but Kate said it was Jack’s big day and she wasn’t going to miss it. Dehlia thought a lot of Kate’s ideas were foolish, but said that Kate had a stubborn streak as long and wide as the River Liffey.
At exactly 8:45 Jack yelled, “It’s time to go! It’s time to go!” and darted to the hall tree for his cap.
“I don’t know who is going to help me with all my chores now that you’re all grown up and going to school,” Dehlia sighed as she wiped her hands on her apron. She crouched down and smothered Jack with a tremendous hug. “Go make me proud of ya, lad.”
“I will,” he answered, struggling for breath against her bosom.
Jack, Mamie, and Kate walked out the front door for the short walk across the street, and Kevin ran for the streetcar, already late for the opening bell at St. Pat’s.
“Don’t hold my hand, Ma.”
“OK, I won’t”
“And don’t kiss me goodbye.”
“Fine. Anything else?”
“Yeah. Don’t cry.”
“I won’t if you won’t.”
Mamie spotted a group of her friends up ahead and called for them to wait for her because her limp slowed her down. The nuns at St. Columbkille School had wanted to send her to a special school for crippled children, but Dehlia thought that was pure nonsense. Why should a crippled child have to take two different streetcars to get to a school when she lived right across the street from a perfectly good one? Pure nonsense.
Jack was well aware that his mother was the youngest and prettiest of all the other mothers in the neighborhood. Most of them stared at her a lot, and he figured it was because they were old with sour faces, and some even had all gray hair like Grandma. His Ma smiled politely and said good morning to the other ladies, but only a few mumbled good morning back. She just kept smiling. Jack was so proud of her. His mother had celebrated her golden birthday a few months ago. She was 23 years old on June 23, so this was supposed to be her lucky year. Danny’s mother was always really nice to his Ma, and Jack had once overheard Mrs. O’Connor say that ‘she was once in her shoes,’ whatever that meant.
The new first grade students were instructed to gather at the main entrance of the school building, next to the grand statue of Saint Columbkille himself, where the first grade teachers, either the young Sister Mary Brigid or the old Sister Mary Stella, would line them up and march them into the building.
Jack and his mother walked up to Sr. Brigid who was greeting parents while trying to manage the chaos. “This is my Ma, Sister,” he said, tugging at her sleeve.
“Well hello again, Jackie,” she replied, “And hello Mrs….”
“Callihan, and it’s Miss, Sister,” Kate answered in a whisper, lowering her eyes, “I’m pleased to meet you. Jackie…Jack… has already told us about you.”
“It’s Miss ‘cause I don’t have a dad,” stated Jack, matter-of-factly.
“Oh,” Sister Brigid nodded slightly and smiled. “Pleased to meet you as well, Miss Callihan,” then turned to Jack, “Are you ready to start Jackie?”
“Yes, Sister, but I want you to call me Jack.”
“Oh, how grown up.” The two women exchanged a quick glance and a smile. “I’ll try to remember.”
Just then, the commanding voice of Sister Stella announced, “Say good-bye to your mothers, children, it’s time to go in.”
Some children raced to get in line, eager to be first, and others whimpered and clung to their mothers, reluctant to separate. Jack scrambled to get in line right behind Danny and then waved to his mother. At last, the children walked in two straight lines, one for boys and one for girls, down the long, long corridor; Sister Stella’s class filed into room 1, and Sister Brigid’s into room 2.
After instructing the boys to hang their hats in the cloakroom, Sister Brigid asked the children to find a seat for now, and later, after lunch, she would assign them their permanent seats.
Once everyone was seated, she began, “Every day, we’ll start with our morning prayers, the Our Father and the Hail Mary. Please stand and keep your eyes on the crucifix. And I want to see everyone make a proper Sign of the Cross.”
Jack, remembering his uncle’s story from the night before, crossed himself with the precision of a surgeon. The class stood and all recited their prayers perfectly from memory, which most of them could do almost from the time they learned to talk.
“Now I’m going to call the roll,” she continued.
“What’s the roll mean?” sniffed Francis O’Boyle. Francis, as round and soft as a cotton ball, had one of those old all-gray-haired-sour mothers who boldly glared at Kate, and he was rarely allowed to play with Jack. He had been one of the criers.
“Attendance.”
“What’s ‘tendance mean?”
“Attendance. It’s a list of the children who are in our class.”
“Oh.”
“When you hear your name, stand up and say ‘Here Sister’.”
The children listened carefully for their names and answered “Here Sister” in booming voices so God could hear them all the way in heaven. It was a theory among the students at St. Columbkille that you had to speak extra loudly to nuns because their ears were covered up by their wimples and veils.
“Daisy Flannigan?” There was no response. “Daisy Flannigan, are you here?”
Danny raised his hand. “She ain’t here. I mean she ain’t here, Sister. She gots the chicken pox.”
“Oh, poor thing,” said Sister Brigid as she checked off Daisy’s name. “Let’s be sure to include her in our afternoon prayers.”
The list went on.
“John Mahoney?” She looked around the classroom. “Does anyone know where John Mahoney is? Danny, do you know if John has the chicken pox as well?”
“I ain’t never heard of any kid named John Mahoney, Sister, and I know everybody.”
“Yes, I’m sure you do. Very well, let’s continue.”
When Sister finished reading all the names on her list she asked, “Is there anyone whose name I didn’t call?”
Everyone turned to look at Jack, who timidly raised his hand.
“Jack! How could I have missed you? Tell me your last name once more.”
“Callihan.”
Sister Brigid looked over her list again and said, “You’re not on my list Jackie…Jack. Perhaps there’s been an error. Or perhaps you belong with Sister Mary Stella.” Jack’s heart sank at the thought of that.
Just then, Sister Margaret Anne entered the classroom. Sister Brigid instructed the class to stand and say good morning.
“GOOD-MOR-NING-SIS-TER!” they chanted in sing-song unison.
“Good Morning boys and girls. Be seated.” She looked over the top of her eyeglasses. “I know most of you from your brothers and sisters, but for those of you who don’t know me, I am Sister Margaret Anne, the principal of this school. You’ll all do well to remember that disobeying Sister Brigid is the same as disobeying me, and you won’t want to learn the consequences of that. In this school I am in charge. I hope I am making myself clear.” She scanned the room. “Girls, you will all be expected to be in full uniform tomorrow or you will be sent home. Boys, don’t come to school with your hair uncombed.” Her gaze landed on Terry Collins. “Terry, that goes double for you. Come back tomorrow with a proper haircut or I’ll be after you with the scissors myself. Tell your parents that.”
“Y-y-yes, sister,” Terry stammered. All eyes turned to Terry’s blonde, almost white hair, that was hanging in his face, but did little to hide the reddening of his cheeks.
Sister Margaret Anne went on to tell the new students about what else was expected of them, about not running in the halls, taking care to keep their shirt tails tucked in, and offering up all their hard work to the Poor Souls in Purgatory.
As she turned to leave, Sr. Brigid said, “Sister Margaret Anne, may I have a word please?”
The two nuns conferred quietly for a moment, the tips of their headpieces nearly touching, and Jack saw Sister Margaret Anne shake her head and whisper, “Oh dear, I’m afraid I know what happened. I’ll take care of this.” She scanned the room, looking for Jack. “Ah, there you be. Jackie, could you come with me please,” she said with an uncharacteristic smile. “We’ll have this all straightened out in two shakes.”
The first graders solemnly watched as Jack left the room, many of them believing they’d never see their friend alive again. “Goodbye, Jack,” whispered Danny sadly.
He silently trailed behind Sister Margaret Anne through the long echoey hallway and down a few stairs to her office. He could feel the piercing eyes of the stern Pope Pius XI peering down from a framed portrait on the wall of the vestibule. Mamie and Kevin had both warned Jack to avoid the office at all costs, and with every clack-clack of Sister’s heavy rosary beads, he became more and more anxious. By the time he climbed onto the sturdy chair across from Sister Margaret Anne’s desk he could barely see through the bleary tears beginning to well up.
Sister Margaret Anne opened the biggest book he had ever seen, with the exception of the giant bible that Grandma sometimes let him touch when she cleaned the altar. She leafed through the pages until she found what she was looking for and ran her finger down a long list of handwritten names.
“Hmmm… here we are. It says here that your mother registered you as John Mahoney.” She sighed heavily and sat back in her chair. “I assume that no one has spoken to you about this yet.”
“But that’s not my name! Why…why…” Jack began crying. “Why would she do that? That’s a lie!”
“Calm yourself, Jackie,” she frowned, “ No one is a liar, least of all me! And please remember to whom you are speaking. I think we need to have a talk with your mother and grandmother. I know your mother is at work today, so why don’t you walk across the street and get your grandmother. You can bring her back here and we’ll explain it all to you.”
“Explain what?” Jackie sniffed, scared and confused. “You know me, Sister, I’m Jackie Callihan! You see me all the time!”
“Yes, of course I know you, Jackie, ever since you were a wee babe. Now be a good lad and go get your grandmother.” Sensing his hesitation, she added, “You’re not in any trouble. Go on with you now. I’ll be keeping an eye on you from the window, but mind the traffic.”
Jackie wiped his nose on his sleeve and reluctantly left the office. Once out the front door, the panic that he’d been trying so hard to push away finally took hold. He wanted his mother, not Grandma. He looked back at Sister Margaret Anne, who, as promised, stood watch from her office window like an eagle getting a bead on its dinner. Then, without looking back, he turned and ran as fast as he could, not across Paulina Street to his house, but down Grand Avenue, in the direction of Sullivan’s Bakery.
***
Kate had been at work for only about an hour when Jack came bursting through the door of the bakery, crying and calling for her. About ten seconds later, Officer Flannigan barrelled through the same door, huffing and puffing after a long chase.
He had seen Jack racing down Grand Avenue away from St. Columbkille. He was well aware that it was the first day of school because his daughter, Daisy, was home with the chicken pox crying her eyes out because she couldn’t attend. “Jackie, my boy! Where might you be going? Aren’t you supposed to be in school?” Jack just kept on running, forgetting that his Uncle Kevin had told him to never, ever run away from a policeman.
“What on earth…” Kate hurried around the counter as Jack flew into her arms and sobbed, “It’s a lie, it’s a lie! She’s a liar!”
“What’s going on Jackie?” She peeled his arms from around her neck and frantically ran her hands over his trembling body. “Are you hurt Jackie? Did someone hurt you? What’s going on?” She looked up at Officer Flannigan who was still trying to catch his breath. “Ed, what happened?”
“I dunno, Kate…. Boy, that kid sure can run…. I was walking my beat…. and suddenly…. he flew right past me…. wouldn’t stop…I could hear him crying….”
Kate took Jack’s face in her hands and looked at him squarely, “Son, you have to tell us what happened. Why aren’t you at school?”
He sniffed and wiped his nose against his mother’s uniform. “Sister Margaret Anne said…she said…” He started crying again.
“Go on lad,” urged Officer Flannigan as he put a gentle hand on Jackie’s shoulder, “Just say it all at once and it’ll be over. You can do it.”
Jack sniffled again and took a deep breath. “She told me that my name is John Mahoney! She said you said so!”
“Oh Jackie,” Kate whispered as she took him into her arms again. She looked up at Officer Flannigan, who gave her an understanding nod and said, “I’ll be goin’ now. No need to make a report.”
“Could you tell Sister Margaret Anne that I have him?”
“Sure thing, Kate.” He ruffled Jack’s hair. “You keep runnin’ like that and you’ll be a track star some day, my boy.”
“Come on, Jackie. We have to talk.” She turned to her co-worker who had come in from the back room. “Alice, do you think you could handle the front by yourself for a little while?”
“Of course I can, Kate.” She reached into the dessert case and pulled out a freshly baked sugar cookie. “Here you go Jackie, this’ll make you feel better. Just took it out of the oven.”
Kate and Jack walked hand in hand into the back room and settled onto two wooden crates that served as chairs.
“Tell me,” Jack said, his bottom lip still trembling.
Kate took a deep breath. “This is a very grown-up story, Jackie. You might not understand all of it.”
“I’ll understand.” He nibbled at the edge of the cookie. “Tell me.”
“Where should I start,” Kate closed her eyes for a moment and collected her thoughts. “Well, a long time ago, before you were born, I had a boyfriend that I loved very much and we decided to get married without telling anyone. Not Grandma or your aunts and uncles or anybody.”
“What? How could you get married without anyone knowing? Didn’t they see you in the church or hear the organ playing?” Jack and his family always watched out their window as new brides and grooms emerged from church after their wedding ceremonies.
Kate shook her head. “Nope, we did it in secret. It’s called eloping. And it wasn’t in a church with a priest like at Uncle Tom and Aunt June’s wedding. A judge married us in an office.”
Jack chewed his cookie and let this information sink in. “So how come you’re not married now? Your last name is Callihan, how come mine isn’t?”
“Grandma was real mad when she found out.”
“Like when she caught Uncle Kevin drinking bathroom gin in the alley?”
Kate suppressed a laugh.“Bathtub gin. Yes, but even worse than that. She was so mad that she made us get a piece of paper that said we weren’t married anymore.”
Jack looked at his mother with a familiar wrinkled brow.
“Jackie, I didn’t want to do it, but Grandma said we had to because I was too young to be married, only sixteen. That’s why my last name is still Callihan. Anyway, the man, his name was Leo Mahoney. You have his last name, but I never told you.”
“Leo? The hat man? The man with the ten dollars? He’s my dad?”
“Yes, honey, the hat man is your dad. I’m sorry I never told you about him, but you never had any questions.”
“I just thought I didn’t have a dad … I mean ever.”
“Everyone has a dad, Jack. I guess that’s something else I never talked to you about.”
Jackie immediately popped up from the crate. “But Ma, that’s good, because Uncle Tom saw him. It means he’s here. You can get married to him again because you’re not so young anymore and then he can start being my dad. We can live in our own house like Danny’s and have…”
“Slow down, Jackie, slow down! It’s not that simple. Leo got married to another lady last year.”
Jack thumped back down and thought for a minute while he took another bite. “I have an idea! Why don’t you just give him one of those pieces of paper that says he’s not married to that other lady anymore?”
Kate smiled and shook her head. “I can’t do that Jackie. And there’s something else. Leo didn’t even know about you until after he got married to the other lady.”
“Oh. Why not?”
“Right after we got the div… after we weren’t married anymore, Leo’s father got a really good job in Detroit at an automobile factory, so Leo had to move away with his family. The next thing I knew I found out I was going to have you. Grandma told me it was for the best and wouldn’t tell me where they lived, so I couldn’t tell him. He only found out because one of his friends from here visited him a few months ago and told him about you.”
“But why didn’t you ever tell me about him?”
“I don’t know, Jackie. I guess it was easier just to not say anything. I’m really sorry, but when I signed you up for first grade I had to give them your real name because I was afraid they were going to ask for your birth certificate. I thought the Sisters would just call you Jack Callihan like they always have.”
“What about the ‘John’ part? Can’t I be Jackie…I mean Jack…anymore? How come I have to have a new first name? Is it because there were too many Jacks just like there are too many Kates here?”
Kate smiled. “No, that’s not it, but it’s the easy part to explain. You know that my full name is Catherine, right?”
“Uh-huh. It’s what Grandma calls you when she’s hollering.”
“Exactly. Kate is a nickname for Catherine. Well, your full name is John, named after your grandpa up in heaven. Jack is a nickname for John. Lots of people who are named John go by Jack instead.”
“Oh.” Jackie took one last bite of his cookie and thought about all that he had learned. “Hey, what about my middle name? Is it still Joseph or is that different too?”
Kate’s face became very serious. “I don’t know how to break this to you, son, but your real middle name is Roscoe.”
“What! That’s a dog’s name!”
Kate laughed. “I’m kidding you. John Joseph Mahoney is your name. Your real true official name. I’m sure the Sisters will agree to call you Jack, but your last name is Mahoney, and that’s what you’ll be called now that you started school. No more surprises.” She brushed the remaining crumbs from Jackie’s shirt and said, “Oh boy, Jackie, what am I going to do with you now? I better go find Mr. Sullivan and ask him if I can take the rest of the morning off. We have to get you back to school and get this all smoothed out with Sister Margaret Anne.” She got up and headed for the cellar where the big ovens were.
Jack didn’t move. “I’m not going back there. Ever.” He crossed his arms and planted himself firmly on the crate.
Kate turned, “Of course you’re going back. You have to. Everyone has to go to school. I’ll bet Sister Brigid is pretty worried about you right now. You don’t want her to start saying prayers for you, do you?”
“No. I guess not.” He looked down at his new shoes, now scuffed from running away from school. “Am I going to meet him Ma? Leo. My dad. Can I meet him? He must want to … he sent me a ten dollar bill and a hat and everything. He wouldn’t do that if he didn’t want to know me.”
Kate returned to her seat on the crate and continued. “That’s what the letter was all about. He and his wife want to move back to Chicago. I don’t know exactly when, but pretty soon. That’s why he was talking to Uncle Tom. He wanted to know if Uncle Tom could put in a good word for him with the city so he can get a job and move back here to be close to you. Even though we won’t all live together in the same house like a regular family, he still wants to be your dad and watch you grow up. Is that OK?”
Jack shrugged, “OK, I guess.”
***
Mr. Sullivan reluctantly let Kate go for the rest of the morning in exchange for working on Saturday, which was her regular day off. Kate and Jack walked slowly back to St. Columbkille, both of them dreading what would happen when they finally arrived.
Jack thought about what his Ma had told him. Some of it made sense, but some of it didn’t. He wasn’t quite sure how to put the pieces together. He had a dad! And probably another grandma and maybe even a grandpa and cousins and aunts and uncles. He was scared and happy and excited and confused all at once.
Jack thought Kate looked worried. She kept that wrinkled brow all the way back to St. Columbkille and every once in a while shook her head and looked like she was talking to herself, trying to figure something out. As they approached the front steps of the school, Kate tightened her grip on Jack’s hand and said, “Son, you wait on the bench outside the office. I need to talk to Sister Margaret Anne in private for a few minutes.”
Jack thought about Pope Pius staring down at him. “Do I have to?”
“Yes. Yes, you do.”
They stopped and looked at each other. “Well, Jack Jackie John Joseph Roscoe Callihan Mahoney, are you ready?”
“Ready. Are you?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.
“Don’t hold my hand, Ma.”
“OK, I won’t”
“And don’t kiss me good-bye.”
“Fine. Anything else?”
“Yeah. Don’t cry.”
“I won’t if you won’t.”
As they climbed the steps to the front door they looked up at the statue of St. Columbkille, his brave and loving face giving them courage.
“Let’s go in, Jackie.”
“Maaa….”
“Sorry. Jack.”