A tree grows in Brooklyn - Betty Smith [54]
“What’s this? What’s this?” Thus he took over.
“This lady is a robber,” reported the woman. “She stole my little boy’s tricycle.”
“I didn’t steal it, Sergeant,” said Sissy in her soft appealing voice. “It was just standing there and standing there so I borrowed it to give the kids a ride. They never rode in such a fine tricycle. You know what a ride means to a kid. It’s just heaven.” The cop stared at the mute children in the seat. Francie grinned at him in trembling panic. “I was only going to ride them once around the block and then take it back. Honest, Sarge.”
The cop let his eyes rest on Sissy’s well-shaped bust which was not spoiled any by the tight waists that she liked to wear. He turned to the harassed mother.
“Why do you want to be so stingy for, lady?” he said. “Let her give the kids a ride around the block. It ain’t no skin off your teeth.” (Only he didn’t say “teeth,” to the snickering delight of the youngsters clustered around.) “Let her give them a spin and I’ll see that you get the bike back safe.”
He was the law. What could the woman do? The cop gave the bawling kid a nickel and told him to shut up. He dispersed the crowd very simply by telling them he’d send for the pie wagon and take them all down to the station house if they didn’t twenty-three skidoo.
The crowd scattered. The cop, swinging his club, gallantly escorted Sissy and her charges around the block. Sissy looked up at him and smiled into his eyes. Whereupon he stuck his club in his belt and insisted on pulling the bike for her. Sissy trotted along beside him on her tiny high-heeled shoes and cast a spell over him with her soft fluttering voice. They walked around the block three times, the cop pretending not to notice the hands that went up to hide smiles as the people saw a fully uniformed officer of the law so engaged. He talked warmly to Sissy, mostly about his wife who was a good woman, you understand, but you know, a kind of invalid.
Sissy said she understood.
After the bike episode, people talked. They talked enough about Johnny coming home drunk once in a while and about how the men looked at Sissy. Now they had this to add on. Katie thought of moving. It was getting like Bogart Street where the neighbors knew too much about the Nolans. While Katie was thinking about looking for another place, something else happened and they had to move right away. The thing that finally drove them from Lorimer Street was stark raw sex. Only it was very innocent, looked at in the right way.
One Saturday afternoon, Katie had an odd job at Gorling’s, a large department store in Williamsburg. She fixed coffee and sandwiches for the Saturday night supper that the boss gave the girls in lieu of overtime money. Johnny was at Union Headquarters waiting for a job to find him. Sissy wasn’t working that day. Knowing that the children would be left alone locked in the rooms, she decided to keep them company.
She knocked at the door calling out that she was Aunt Sissy. Francie opened the door on the chain to make sure before she let her in. The children swarmed over Sissy smothering her with hugs. They loved her. To them, she was a beautiful lady who always smelled sweet, wore beautiful clothes and brought them amazing presents.
Today she brought a sweet-smelling cedar cigar box, several sheets of tissue paper, some red and some white, and a jar of paste. They sat around the kitchen table and went to work decorating the box. Sissy outlined circles on the paper with a quarter and Francie cut them out. Sissy showed her how to make them into little paper cups by molding the circles around the end of a pencil. When they had a lot of cups made, Sissy drew a heart on the box cover. The bottom of each red cup was given a dab of paste and the cup was pasted on the penciled heart. The heart was filled in with red cups. The rest of the lid was filled in with white. When the top was finished it looked like