the way. Just before our stop, Ethel said, “Gordy, reach up there an’ grab hold’a that cord. Give it a yank.” With great self-importance, Gordy climbed up on the seat and grasped the cord. A little bell down near the driver rang and rang. “Let it go, boy,” Ethel directed. I could see the driver scowling at Ethel in his big mirror.
The stop was across the street from Ethel’s dentist’s office, a worn red brick house with a crooked roof next door to the taxi office. Ethel gathered up her belongings, including Helen. I scampered ahead down the aisle toward the front of the bus, Gordy following. The back door swished open. Ethel stood at the top of the steps, jostling her load. “Com’on now, you two, git back here,” she said. Several passengers stood up between us, blocking the way.
As Gordy and I were swept toward the front door, he clung to my hand so tightly my fingers turned white. “Cut it out,” I said, trying to loosen his grip. “You’re hurting me.” As we stepped down, we were greeted by an out of breath Ethel who’d already made her way from the rear exit up the sidewalk to us. She glared at the bus driver as if he were solely responsible for our being separated from her. She helped Gordy and me down to the curb. The driver flashed us a nasty smile as he shut the door and the bus roared off in a cloud of fumes.
“Let go a’me,” I said, shaking Gordy’s sweaty hand from mine.
“Honey, you hol’ his hand, now. We gotta cross the street right chere. Now,” she said. She grabbed my free hand and proceeded across the street, dragging me like the tail of a kite.
From what I could see, Ethel’s dentist must have lived in his office. The building looked like someone’s house. It had a crusty porch that was as lopsided as the roof, barely clinging to the front of the red brick structure. The gray floorboards were scarred and rotten. They looked as if they’d been gnawed on.
“Sit on the stoop an’ don’ let me catch you off it when I git back,” Ethel instructed us.
Gordy and I perched on the edge of the porch and dangled our legs over the side. Ethel disappeared with Helen into the darkness of the office. Every so often we could see someone peering out the door glass to check on us. We watched from the porch as people walked by. Only if a passerby called out, “Morning,” would we say hello.
The taxi office next door offered up considerable interest. Drivers sat behind the steering wheels of their cabs with the windows rolled down, talking to a man inside the office. He was smoking cigarettes and complaining about the heat. When he wasn’t reporting about how much he could drink or who he saw somebody out with last night, he was answering the phone then shouting destinations and instructions out the window. After a driver received an address from the man in the office, he’d pull away in his cab. But there didn’t seem to be any pattern. One cab and driver sat idle the whole time we were watching from the porch, while another, which had just pulled up, left moments after the man shouted an address out the window.
I moved over and stood up in the weeds just off the porch. Gordy, his pale eyes filled with concern, warned, “You better get back here before Ethel catches you.” I slouched back onto the porch and scowled at my older, wiser brother. But his advice was good. Just then Ethel emerged from the door with Helen.
As we walked downtown, Ethel released my hand and let me skip ahead with Gordy, giving a cautionary grunt if we ventured too far ahead. I had to tug on Gordy to get him to do much skipping, but after awhile he acquiesced. We skipped along as high and as fast as our overseer behind us would allow.
Our next stop was a tiny office with a large metal and glass door. Big white letters read, “Public Finance Company.” Metal venetian blinds covered the windows like aluminum foil: all dull, dirty, and bent at the edges. My mother said venetian blinds were tacky,
The stop was across the street from Ethel’s dentist’s office, a worn red brick house with a crooked roof next door to the taxi office. Ethel gathered up her belongings, including Helen. I scampered ahead down the aisle toward the front of the bus, Gordy following. The back door swished open. Ethel stood at the top of the steps, jostling her load. “Com’on now, you two, git back here,” she said. Several passengers stood up between us, blocking the way.
As Gordy and I were swept toward the front door, he clung to my hand so tightly my fingers turned white. “Cut it out,” I said, trying to loosen his grip. “You’re hurting me.” As we stepped down, we were greeted by an out of breath Ethel who’d already made her way from the rear exit up the sidewalk to us. She glared at the bus driver as if he were solely responsible for our being separated from her. She helped Gordy and me down to the curb. The driver flashed us a nasty smile as he shut the door and the bus roared off in a cloud of fumes.
“Let go a’me,” I said, shaking Gordy’s sweaty hand from mine.
“Honey, you hol’ his hand, now. We gotta cross the street right chere. Now,” she said. She grabbed my free hand and proceeded across the street, dragging me like the tail of a kite.
From what I could see, Ethel’s dentist must have lived in his office. The building looked like someone’s house. It had a crusty porch that was as lopsided as the roof, barely clinging to the front of the red brick structure. The gray floorboards were scarred and rotten. They looked as if they’d been gnawed on.
“Sit on the stoop an’ don’ let me catch you off it when I git back,” Ethel instructed us.
Gordy and I perched on the edge of the porch and dangled our legs over the side. Ethel disappeared with Helen into the darkness of the office. Every so often we could see someone peering out the door glass to check on us. We watched from the porch as people walked by. Only if a passerby called out, “Morning,” would we say hello.
The taxi office next door offered up considerable interest. Drivers sat behind the steering wheels of their cabs with the windows rolled down, talking to a man inside the office. He was smoking cigarettes and complaining about the heat. When he wasn’t reporting about how much he could drink or who he saw somebody out with last night, he was answering the phone then shouting destinations and instructions out the window. After a driver received an address from the man in the office, he’d pull away in his cab. But there didn’t seem to be any pattern. One cab and driver sat idle the whole time we were watching from the porch, while another, which had just pulled up, left moments after the man shouted an address out the window.
I moved over and stood up in the weeds just off the porch. Gordy, his pale eyes filled with concern, warned, “You better get back here before Ethel catches you.” I slouched back onto the porch and scowled at my older, wiser brother. But his advice was good. Just then Ethel emerged from the door with Helen.
As we walked downtown, Ethel released my hand and let me skip ahead with Gordy, giving a cautionary grunt if we ventured too far ahead. I had to tug on Gordy to get him to do much skipping, but after awhile he acquiesced. We skipped along as high and as fast as our overseer behind us would allow.
Our next stop was a tiny office with a large metal and glass door. Big white letters read, “Public Finance Company.” Metal venetian blinds covered the windows like aluminum foil: all dull, dirty, and bent at the edges. My mother said venetian blinds were tacky,
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