glamour and perfumed necks, for comfort when fantasy gets run over by reality. The cashiers see right through me.
You want to find Freddy , their eyes say.
I keep the magazines hidden under my mattress. When John is at school and Charlie is working, I’ll take them out and pore over every inch of every photograph, reading all the articles, even the advertisements in the back, searching for him.
Rising star Freddy Pender has just signed on with 20th Century Fox to headline in the studio’s next major motion picture .
This is what I’m expecting to read, even though I’ve never come across the actual words. I’ve even dug out the magnifying glass to scrutinize the party pictures. He may be in the background, smiling or laughing or tapping someone on the shoulder. Is his hair still blond? Has he outgrown his freckles? Does he even go by his own name?
He’s in Hollywood now. Mrs. Pender told me. A few years back, I ran into her in the grocery store, in the canned goods aisle. She wore a pleated skirt and black shoes with fat soles. As soon as I saw her, I came to an abrupt stop. My heart froze.
“Joyce Conrad,” she said. Her eyes travelled to the stroller where John was sleeping. “I see you’ve been busy.”
I managed a sound resembling a laugh. “This is John.”
She bent over to peer into the stroller, and I resisted the impulse to pull it away. Her once bleach-blond curls had gone back to their natural shade of brown. Her black shoes were scuffed at the toes. She had a run in her pantyhose, a thin trickle down her right shin. Her earlobes dangled like pale berries.
“He’s a fine-looking boy,” she said.
“Thank you. I got married a couple of years ago.”
“Oh? And who is the lucky fellow?”
“Charlie Sparks.”
Her mouth curved downwards. “Name doesn’t ring a bell.”
“He’s not from here. He grew up in the West and moved here a few years ago. We met at the dance pavilion and hit it off right away.” Why was I telling her this?
“And what does he do?”
“He works at one of the refineries.”
“I don’t know what this town would do without that industry. Say what you like about pollution, but it’s giving people the means to earn a living and there’s no crime in that.”
“We just bought a house on Marian.”
“I’m not familiar with that street.”
“It’s on the east side.”
“I see.”
I didn’t want to ask the question, but couldn’t help myself. I cleared my throat and hoped I sounded casual. “How’s Freddy?”
She looked over her shoulder before leaning closer. A pink-peach line of foundation ran along her jaw, a morning horizon. “He’s in Hollywood, if you can believe it.”
“Hollywood? I thought he was going to New York.”
“Broadway wasn’t for him. He got tired of the repetitiveness. He was on stage for eight performances a week. It was too much and not the best use of his talents. So he packed up and headed for ‘La-La Land,’ as he refers to it. He’s getting into movies.”
“Movies,” I repeated, as though it was the first time I was hearing the word.
Her chin tilted up. “My boy is on the road to stardom. He even has an agent. Freddy said that when he lands his first starring role, he’ll send a white limousine to whisk me away. Needless to say, I keep my curtains open and a packed bag by the front door.”
A shadow slipped across her face.
“I worry about him being on his own, though. Especially in a place like that. I write him every day to keep him in line. I need to keep an eye on him.”
John began to stir.
“It must be difficult for you,” I say. “Being on your own.”
“I have friends, Joyce.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“And my church.”
“Of course. Are you still teaching?”
She nodded. “Grade four this year. It’s a good age. Right before they turn all saucy.”
I heard John yawn. “I should be going. He’s not usually in a good mood when he wakes up. Please send my regards to
You want to find Freddy , their eyes say.
I keep the magazines hidden under my mattress. When John is at school and Charlie is working, I’ll take them out and pore over every inch of every photograph, reading all the articles, even the advertisements in the back, searching for him.
Rising star Freddy Pender has just signed on with 20th Century Fox to headline in the studio’s next major motion picture .
This is what I’m expecting to read, even though I’ve never come across the actual words. I’ve even dug out the magnifying glass to scrutinize the party pictures. He may be in the background, smiling or laughing or tapping someone on the shoulder. Is his hair still blond? Has he outgrown his freckles? Does he even go by his own name?
He’s in Hollywood now. Mrs. Pender told me. A few years back, I ran into her in the grocery store, in the canned goods aisle. She wore a pleated skirt and black shoes with fat soles. As soon as I saw her, I came to an abrupt stop. My heart froze.
“Joyce Conrad,” she said. Her eyes travelled to the stroller where John was sleeping. “I see you’ve been busy.”
I managed a sound resembling a laugh. “This is John.”
She bent over to peer into the stroller, and I resisted the impulse to pull it away. Her once bleach-blond curls had gone back to their natural shade of brown. Her black shoes were scuffed at the toes. She had a run in her pantyhose, a thin trickle down her right shin. Her earlobes dangled like pale berries.
“He’s a fine-looking boy,” she said.
“Thank you. I got married a couple of years ago.”
“Oh? And who is the lucky fellow?”
“Charlie Sparks.”
Her mouth curved downwards. “Name doesn’t ring a bell.”
“He’s not from here. He grew up in the West and moved here a few years ago. We met at the dance pavilion and hit it off right away.” Why was I telling her this?
“And what does he do?”
“He works at one of the refineries.”
“I don’t know what this town would do without that industry. Say what you like about pollution, but it’s giving people the means to earn a living and there’s no crime in that.”
“We just bought a house on Marian.”
“I’m not familiar with that street.”
“It’s on the east side.”
“I see.”
I didn’t want to ask the question, but couldn’t help myself. I cleared my throat and hoped I sounded casual. “How’s Freddy?”
She looked over her shoulder before leaning closer. A pink-peach line of foundation ran along her jaw, a morning horizon. “He’s in Hollywood, if you can believe it.”
“Hollywood? I thought he was going to New York.”
“Broadway wasn’t for him. He got tired of the repetitiveness. He was on stage for eight performances a week. It was too much and not the best use of his talents. So he packed up and headed for ‘La-La Land,’ as he refers to it. He’s getting into movies.”
“Movies,” I repeated, as though it was the first time I was hearing the word.
Her chin tilted up. “My boy is on the road to stardom. He even has an agent. Freddy said that when he lands his first starring role, he’ll send a white limousine to whisk me away. Needless to say, I keep my curtains open and a packed bag by the front door.”
A shadow slipped across her face.
“I worry about him being on his own, though. Especially in a place like that. I write him every day to keep him in line. I need to keep an eye on him.”
John began to stir.
“It must be difficult for you,” I say. “Being on your own.”
“I have friends, Joyce.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“And my church.”
“Of course. Are you still teaching?”
She nodded. “Grade four this year. It’s a good age. Right before they turn all saucy.”
I heard John yawn. “I should be going. He’s not usually in a good mood when he wakes up. Please send my regards to
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