The Summer We Said Goodbye [Installment 16]

The Ace

The Ace was on Elm just off Uptown’s main drag, and we had to circle the block three times before finding a spot.

Parking with my mom was nothing like with my dad. It was strictly by-the-book with street signs and spaces scrutinized until a spot that satisfied all legal and moral obligations was located. It could be a time-consuming and irritating process that often had us running late. But Aris didn’t care and seemed as engaged as my mother in all the searching and sign-reading.

When a car finally pulled out in front of the bakery, victory was declared.  And we hoofed the three blocks back to the hardware store.

Mr. Rossi, the store’s manager, greeted us at the front door.

“Happy Holidays, Mrs. Brodmerkle. Don’t tell me you’ve added another one to your flock.”

“Oh, heavens no, Lou. This is Aris, Cosmo’s new friend.”

Mr. Rossi handed us each a lollipop even though we were getting a bit too old for that.

“Nice to meet you, Aris. Will we be seeing more of you?”

“Undoubtedly! I live just down Lake.”

“Neighbors! Now, what can we do you for today, Mrs. Brodmerkle?”

“Cosmo’s decided to put up the outdoor Christmas lights. It’s been years, and we’re in need of some fresh recruits.”

“You’re a better man than I, Cosmo. Right this way.”

We followed Mr. Rossi down an aisle to a holiday section spanning the back of the store.

“Old-school or newfangled?”

“Oh, the big bulbs, for sure,” I certified confidently. “It’s what we already have.”

“Old school, it is.”

I’d done a rough assessment of the outdoor shrubs and estimated that 100 feet would cover it. Mr. Rossi selected four packs of the C9 bulbs and passed them my way.

“That should do you and then some.”

“Maybe some newfangled, too, for the indoor tree?”

My mother was admiring a display of tiny Italian lights that had recently become all the rage.

“What do you think, Cosmo?”

This was unusual. I wasn’t typically consulted on matters of household policy.

“But we already have lights for the indoor tree.”

“I know, but I do love the way they twinkle, don’t you?”

“They are very popular,” Mr. Rossi added.

“How many do you think we’ll need for an eight-foot Blue Spruce, Lou? And should we go all-white or colored, Cosmo?”

As we debated the particulars of the new lights, Aris vanished, reappearing with a shopping cart just as Mr. Rossi was loading me down with additional packs.

“Yes, Aris, thank you. You read my mind.”

My mother was in surprisingly high spirits. It had become difficult to track her moods lately. And I’d learned to tread carefully and make the most of her good moments.

“You’re welcome, Mrs. Brodmerkle. I love how they twinkle, too.”

With the lights checked off our list, Mr. Rossi returned to the front of the store, and my mother commandeered the cart, steering it down the holiday aisle on what had apparently become a shopping spree.  

I took it as my cue and slipped down a different aisle on a mission of my own. I had one of the surviving blades from the candle spinner in my pocket. It was a thin strip of wood about an inch or so wide with a wooden rod that connected it to the hub like a spoke in a bicycle wheel. I was hoping I could replicate it using the wing of a Balsa Wood airplane.

“Whatcha doing?”

Aris had followed me.  

“We need six more of these.” I passed her the blade.

She watched intently as I pulled a box from the shelf and unpacked the airplane’s parts. The wing was definitely big enough but it was a little too thick and had a notch cut in the middle for the fuselage that would likely allow too much of the candles’ heat to dissipate. I carefully repackaged it and returned it to the shelf for a different model.  

But when I turned back, Aris had disappeared again, taking the blade with her.

Where’d she go?

I checked the aisle one over but there was no sign of her. So I trudged back to my mom in the holiday section.

“Have you seen, Aris?”

“No Booby. Tinsel or garland?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Tinsel. If you see her, will you let her know I’m looking for her?”

“‘Please’ and ‘thank you,’” she chided while picking through an assortment of holiday napkins.

“Please?”

“Yes, dear...”

I grunted a “Thank you” and headed back to the airplanes.  

Still no Aris.

That’s when I heard it, her laugh — or cackle given my current vexation.  

I hunted her down at the front of the store where she was in consultation with Mr. Rossi, who was now holding and examining the blade.  

This was precisely why I preferred to do things on my own. Adults are always butting in and making things far more complicated than they need to be while poo-pooing any idea that isn’t their own while taking far too long to finish a job, if they ever do. I was now officially annoyed and marched over to her as Mr. Rossi took off with the blade.

“What’s going on? You walked away right behind my back. And what’s he doing with the blade?”

“You said we needed six more?”

“Exactly! And I had it under control. Don’t you think I can handle it on my own?”

I could feel my face getting hotter and waited for a comeback. But none came. She looked utterly bewildered.

“Ah, there he is!”

Mr. Rossi was back with a basket of goods he laid out on a counter in front of us.

There was a thin sheet of wood veneer; a dowel like a Tinker Toy; an Exacto knife; a small paintbrush; a pencil; sandpaper; and a miniature can of flame-retardant polyurethane.

I grudgingly watched as he traced the blade onto the wood and cut it out with the Exacto knife. He then made a lateral slit at the end of the dowel and slid the new blade into it, passing it to me for inspection.  

I had to hand it to him, it looked just like the original.

“I don’t know...”

“You don’t know what?”

My mother had wheeled up with the cart behind us.

“Is that —? Oh, Cosmo, what a wonderful idea. I love the nativity carousel.”

“Yeah, but It’s a lot to buy.”

“Not as much as six Balsa Wood airplanes.” Aris couldn’t help herself.

“Well, let’s have Mr. Rossi ring it up and see how much it costs, okay?”

“I guess. But we don’t need the pencil. And I already have an Exacto knife at home.”

Aris was right, it was less than six airplanes. And I felt foolish for having made such a fuss. But I didn’t know how to admit it so I avoided all eye contact with her until we had cleared the store.

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