Summer of My German Soldier by Bette Greene

Author:Bette Greene [Greene, Bette]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4532-2585-1
Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media LLC
Published: 2011-08-31T04:00:00+00:00

11. Mining the gold

“SHE HAS TO BE taking it home with her; I can’t think of any other explanation. That kosher salami cost one dollar and ten cents.” My mother repeated the price a second time for added emphasis.

I pulled the top sheet over my head to block out the early morning sounds from the kitchen and rolled over a now very warm ice bag and remembered. In another few minutes they would be leaving for the store. Only then would I get out of bed. Just as soon as my mother downs her second cup of coffee and my father finishes his corn flakes. As long as I can remember it has been corn flakes and nothing but corn flakes. He’s got the same loyalty towards cars. “I’ll buy any kinda car as long as it’s a Chevrolet.” And cigarettes too. He’s never had a cigarette in his mouth that wasn’t a Lucky Strike.

“So you’d better talk to her, Harry.”

“Talk to who?”

“To Ruth!” Her voice hit a shrill note. “I want to know what’s happening to the salami and chicken and all the other food that’s been disappearing around here lately.”

“Well, how do you know she’s taking it home? I don’t know what you’re talking about. But she’ll be coming any minute now, and if you want to fire her it’s fine with me. Something about that woman I never liked.”

I didn’t want to speak to them, but I didn’t want them to suspect either. I yelled out, “I’m sorry about the salami ’cause I ate most of it myself. And about the leftover chicken, Sharon and Sue Ellen ate the last of it.”

“Now you see that!” he told her. “Don’t ever talk to me again about missing food.”

I’ll have to say this for him, he’s always generous about food, even when we eat in restaurants. Like that Sunday in Memphis not too long ago when we ate at Britlings’ and I ordered the chopped sirloin steak and he said, “That’s nothing but a hamburger. Wouldn’t you like to have a real steak?” My mother didn’t like the idea of ordering “an expensive steak that will just go to waste.” But my father told her to mind her own business, and that as long as he lived I could eat anything I wanted.

The phrase, “as long as he lived” sounded like a vague prophecy, and I became sorrowful that he might die now that he was being good to me. I became so sorrowful, in fact, that it was Mother’s prediction that was soon fulfilled. An expensive steak went to waste.

The familiar sounds of a spiritual—Ruth was passing below my window on her way to the back door. “Morning, folks,” she called. “Well, I heard the weatherman say we’re gonna get us a little rain by afternoon, enough to cool things off.” My mother agreed that a little shower would be very nice. “Is that piece of toast all you’ve had to eat?” asked Ruth. “That’s no kinda breakfast, Miz Bergen.

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