When Nick Pomeroy was 12 years old he lost his three-year old sister, Nina, at Woodfield Mall. Nick had wanted to stay home and play basketball with his friends, but his mom had insisted he come along to help her with Nina, as his father was unavailable – having conveniently scheduled a Saturday morning meeting with one of his tax clients. It was the week before Christmas and Nick was annoyed with Nina who wouldn’t stop singing that stupid song about the wheels on the bus as he pushed her stroller through the hordes of shoppers while his mom checked out the display windows, searching for the right gift for her sister.
After passing a number of acceptable stores, she stopped in front of the Victoria’s Secret display, which was occupied by three shapely mannequins
wearing Santa’s hats and skimpy underwear. “Come on, Nick, I want to check out those silk panties.”
Nick could feel his face coloring. “I’m not going in there.” The shop was packed with women and high school girls. “There’s no room for her stupid
stroller.”
His mom bit her lip as she stared into the crowded shop. “Okay, you stay here with Nina. Don’t let her out of your sight. I’ll just be a few minutes.”
After his mom disappeared into the store, Nina started to pound her feet on the stroller. She pointed across the way to the mechanical Santa in front of Radio Shack. “Santa, Nicky!”
“We have to stay here,” Nick said.
“Santa! Santa! Santa!”
Nick sighed. “Okay. Okay.” He wheeled over and parked Nina in front of Santa. In the Radio Shack display an employee was playing the videogame DOOM. Nick had never seen such a cool game. The player ran down dark, spooky hallways, shooting bad guys at every turn. Around and around and then, Kablam!
“Look, Nina, big boom.” Nick reached for the stroller, but it wasn’t there.
He never, of course, forgot that moment. His heart beating so hard it hurt. The cold, sick feeling in his stomach as he ran from store to store, calling
Nina’s name. And that look on his mom’s face when she ran out of the store.
They never found Nina. She vanished from the face of the earth and no one saw her leave. It was Nick’s fault. He understood that. The Pomeroys were not emotional people. His parents never yelled at him. Never said they blamed him. Never bothered to tell him they loved him anyway. Those things were understood.
The Pomeroys were practical people. They didn’t cling to false hopes. They waited a year and then one day when Nick came home from school, the pictures of Nina were gone from the living room wall and her room had been converted to a spare bedroom that no one ever used. Nick understood. Nina was gone and there was nothing else to do, but go on with their lives.
Nick went on to college at UCLA and fell in love with Donna Clement, a dark-eyed Italian girl who worked in the Student Union. They got married before his second year of law at USC and moved into an attic apartment in the Clement home. The Clements loved to argue and hug and play loud board games, which often ended with someone throwing something. Nick loved them very much. He never told Donna or her parents that he once had a sister named Nina.
Cassie was born two years after Nick graduated from USC Law. His parents wanted to come out and see her, but Nick put them off. Too hectic, with a new baby and the long hours at the law firm. His parents understood. They were practical people.
Donna’s gift for his 30th birthday was three airline tickets to Chicago. Nick looked at the tickets and shook his head. “It’s not a good time. Work…”
“Stop it, Nick. I haven’t seen your parents since the wedding. And Cassie needs to meet her other grandparents. No discussion, Mister.” She kissed him and Nick decided maybe it was time.
His parents had aged well. His father had retired early and, unbelievably, taken up gardening.Their front lawn, which had always been as antiseptically groomed and edged as a golf course, was now speckled with outbursts of mums and daisies and wildflowers. His mother, even more surprising, had acquired a piano and taken lessons. They were very happy to meet Cassie, and spoiled her even more than her other grandparents.
On the third day of their visit, his mom brought out Nick’s toy box, which was filled with his old Ninja turtle paraphernalia. She dressed Cassie in his
Donatello costume. As she rolled up the pants and sleeves, Nick’s heart twinged as he remembered doing that same thing for Nina. Cassie padded over to the toy box and discovered his Ninja trifold wallet. She pulled out a photo that had been pasted on red construction paper and framed with popsicle sticks.
“Who’s this, Nana?” She ran over to her grandmother. Nick watched as his mother studied the photo. Her lips trembled and her eyes filled with tears.
“That’s my little sister Nina,” Nick said. “She was the same age as you, honey.
Donna looked up from her magazine. “Your sister?”
“Where is she, Daddy? Can I play with her?”
Nick’s throat tightened. “I lost her. I was supposed to keep her safe and I…” The words choked him. He just stood in the middle of their living room aware of Cassie and his mother and Donna all staring at him. Waiting. “I lost her and—”
“No, Nicky, no,” his mom said softly. She walked over and hugged him. “It wasn’t your fault. You were just a boy. I’m so sorry, Nicky. So, so
sorry.”
She took Cassie by the hand and led her over to the piano. “Come here, darling. I want to teach you a song that my Nina used to love.”
Len Joy lives in Evanston, Illinois. Recent work has appeared in The Journal of Compressed Creative Arts, Johnny America, Specter Magazine, Washington Pastime, Hobart, 3 AM Magazine, Pindeldyboz, and The Daily Palette (Iowa Review). He has recently completed a novel, “American Jukebox,” about a minor league baseball player whose life unravels after he fails to make it to the major leagues.
After passing a number of acceptable stores, she stopped in front of the Victoria’s Secret display, which was occupied by three shapely mannequins
wearing Santa’s hats and skimpy underwear. “Come on, Nick, I want to check out those silk panties.”
Nick could feel his face coloring. “I’m not going in there.” The shop was packed with women and high school girls. “There’s no room for her stupid
stroller.”
His mom bit her lip as she stared into the crowded shop. “Okay, you stay here with Nina. Don’t let her out of your sight. I’ll just be a few minutes.”
After his mom disappeared into the store, Nina started to pound her feet on the stroller. She pointed across the way to the mechanical Santa in front of Radio Shack. “Santa, Nicky!”
“We have to stay here,” Nick said.
“Santa! Santa! Santa!”
Nick sighed. “Okay. Okay.” He wheeled over and parked Nina in front of Santa. In the Radio Shack display an employee was playing the videogame DOOM. Nick had never seen such a cool game. The player ran down dark, spooky hallways, shooting bad guys at every turn. Around and around and then, Kablam!
“Look, Nina, big boom.” Nick reached for the stroller, but it wasn’t there.
He never, of course, forgot that moment. His heart beating so hard it hurt. The cold, sick feeling in his stomach as he ran from store to store, calling
Nina’s name. And that look on his mom’s face when she ran out of the store.
They never found Nina. She vanished from the face of the earth and no one saw her leave. It was Nick’s fault. He understood that. The Pomeroys were not emotional people. His parents never yelled at him. Never said they blamed him. Never bothered to tell him they loved him anyway. Those things were understood.
The Pomeroys were practical people. They didn’t cling to false hopes. They waited a year and then one day when Nick came home from school, the pictures of Nina were gone from the living room wall and her room had been converted to a spare bedroom that no one ever used. Nick understood. Nina was gone and there was nothing else to do, but go on with their lives.
Nick went on to college at UCLA and fell in love with Donna Clement, a dark-eyed Italian girl who worked in the Student Union. They got married before his second year of law at USC and moved into an attic apartment in the Clement home. The Clements loved to argue and hug and play loud board games, which often ended with someone throwing something. Nick loved them very much. He never told Donna or her parents that he once had a sister named Nina.
Cassie was born two years after Nick graduated from USC Law. His parents wanted to come out and see her, but Nick put them off. Too hectic, with a new baby and the long hours at the law firm. His parents understood. They were practical people.
Donna’s gift for his 30th birthday was three airline tickets to Chicago. Nick looked at the tickets and shook his head. “It’s not a good time. Work…”
“Stop it, Nick. I haven’t seen your parents since the wedding. And Cassie needs to meet her other grandparents. No discussion, Mister.” She kissed him and Nick decided maybe it was time.
His parents had aged well. His father had retired early and, unbelievably, taken up gardening.Their front lawn, which had always been as antiseptically groomed and edged as a golf course, was now speckled with outbursts of mums and daisies and wildflowers. His mother, even more surprising, had acquired a piano and taken lessons. They were very happy to meet Cassie, and spoiled her even more than her other grandparents.
On the third day of their visit, his mom brought out Nick’s toy box, which was filled with his old Ninja turtle paraphernalia. She dressed Cassie in his
Donatello costume. As she rolled up the pants and sleeves, Nick’s heart twinged as he remembered doing that same thing for Nina. Cassie padded over to the toy box and discovered his Ninja trifold wallet. She pulled out a photo that had been pasted on red construction paper and framed with popsicle sticks.
“Who’s this, Nana?” She ran over to her grandmother. Nick watched as his mother studied the photo. Her lips trembled and her eyes filled with tears.
“That’s my little sister Nina,” Nick said. “She was the same age as you, honey.
Donna looked up from her magazine. “Your sister?”
“Where is she, Daddy? Can I play with her?”
Nick’s throat tightened. “I lost her. I was supposed to keep her safe and I…” The words choked him. He just stood in the middle of their living room aware of Cassie and his mother and Donna all staring at him. Waiting. “I lost her and—”
“No, Nicky, no,” his mom said softly. She walked over and hugged him. “It wasn’t your fault. You were just a boy. I’m so sorry, Nicky. So, so
sorry.”
She took Cassie by the hand and led her over to the piano. “Come here, darling. I want to teach you a song that my Nina used to love.”
Len Joy lives in Evanston, Illinois. Recent work has appeared in The Journal of Compressed Creative Arts, Johnny America, Specter Magazine, Washington Pastime, Hobart, 3 AM Magazine, Pindeldyboz, and The Daily Palette (Iowa Review). He has recently completed a novel, “American Jukebox,” about a minor league baseball player whose life unravels after he fails to make it to the major leagues.
RSS Feed