The Things That Remain Constant

It was hard to believe it had been twenty-four years since I had last seen it, but the place looked exactly the same when I, Penny Norwich, left Syracuse, New York, my hometown.  My mother Glenda Pierce had passed away suddenly in the care facility she was living in.  She was watching Wheel of Fortune with about a half dozen other residents when the Angel came for her.  My younger brother Dale met her at the airport.  Now as he neared fifty years old, his hairline was rapidly retreating, his friendly pooch had expanded a bit causing his hypertension and high cholesterol.  His Central New York twang that could be a little rough on the ears from time to time, but no matter I remember him as my pain in the butt little brother.  He was not clear if Beth, his wife would accompany him, but that didn’t matter either.  She was nice and they got along, but there was something about her that she and I did not quite meld with since Beth could be rather sharp and condescending at times.  

To the rest of the world, I, Penny Norwich, was a B-list celebrity with a nice apartment in Century City where I was known for my work as a voice over artist meaning you may not recognize my face, but everyone knew the voice.  Even though I  did some commercials where I showed my face, the real star was my voice.  

There was a strong aroma of disinfectant hanging in the early morning air of Hancock Terminal that made me queasy, reminding me of why I hated airport terminals so much.  There was a heavy set guy wearing rubber gloves and an apron armed with a large spray bottle headed into the Women’s restroom where a big yellow sign declared that the room was closed for maintenance.  I would have to scurry to the next one a bit farther down the endless hall. 

“Penelope!” He heard a familiar voice call out.  Looking up she saw her younger brother wearing a stained shirt and jacket.  Beth was not with him.  Count your blessings.  

“Dale.” The embrace was warm and sincere.  “I have to find a restroom.”

“Yeah, there’s one over heayar.” His accent was still as strong as ever. 

“It’s good to see you.” I kissed him on the cheek as they walked the long corridor filled with scurrying travelers.

“So, how was da flight?” He asked as they approached an open restroom.

“Fine, fine.” I thought about the stewardess with the attitude, but she was not worth mentioning.  I shuffled inside noting her brother had not offered to help me with her heavy carry on.  After taking care of business and washing my hands, I rejoined him.

“Ma got sick about six months ago.” He explained as if she had just gone on a weekend excursion, but it had been such a long time and from what I had seen so far, nothing had changed.  It was raining, but then there were only an average of eighty days out of the rest of the three-sixty-five that it did not rain at some point during the day.  

“I heard it was her heart.” I said as she got to baggage claim knowing her carry-on was nearly as heavy as the one suitcase she had packed.

“So how’s Hollywood?” Dale asked as she grabbed her bag and once again he did not offer to help her.  Thank God, it had wheels.

“You know...I stay pretty busy.” I smiled like her picture on the gallery at her office in Century City, a life size photograph of her crooked smile and styled blonde hair that I was now having to color to keep the gray from showing up. Everyone loved my smile, except me, because heredity was cruel and her lip had a noticeable flaw in it.  It was a lasting memory from the accident.  Seatbelts weren’t even used in most cars back then and when dad hit the other car, she did not remember anything after she hit the windshield at sixty miles an hour.  I was lucky, despite the facial damage, my scars were not so bad, except for the lip. It was the main reason I avoided being seen and not heard in my professional career.  

“You know they closed Muldoon’s?” Dale said as they approached his rusty old Chevy in short term parking.

“Really?” I shrugged, noting that Muldoon’s had served three generations of Pierce men located in a corner of town that did not have the best of reputations, but was considered a landmark by those in the neighborhood. My dad had taken me there when I turned eighteen for my first legal beer, but there was a fight and one of the patrons was cut with a broken bottle.  The place reeked of stale beer and urine, but my her father, this place was his home away from home, where people like him, veterans of the Korean War would hang out and tell sad stories of how they had bigger dreams than the ones they were all living which included my brother who declare he wanted to runaway and join the circus, but that didn’t happen and if anything, as it turned out I was the one who ran away and joined the circus know as Fairchild Production Company who produced a lot of children’s shows that were all commercially successful including her show “Matilda Woman Warrior.”  The show was whacky, but she was this rather odd sort of warrior who felt I was fearsome when in reality I am timid and shy.  The premise was a “can’t miss” idea that was now in its sixteenth season, ancient by modern production standards.  When interviewed, I would say I am still with the production, because of the success of the show kept her there.

The rain made the town appear dreary as she remembered it when I left over twenty years ago. If there was Boarded up buildings covered in graffiti sodden with the never ending rain falling from the steel gray skies draining into clogged drains in the pot holed streets.  There was absolutely no color anywhere in the day other than the predominant gray that made the cityscape look like an old black and white film noir.  We drove down Erie Boulevard to Tipperary Hill where Dale lived in a nice neighborhood because his wife Beth had a position as a financial advisor that made a much better salary than a high school English teacher like my brother.  I tolerated her, but she was a bit of a snob as far as I was concerned. 

“Oh dear Penelope, I am so sorry for your loss.” She gave me a friendly peck on the cheek when we got to Dale’s house.  

“She had been ill for a few months.” I shrugged.

“But still, no one is ready for this.” She shook her head.

I did not want to discuss the falling out we had when I left Syracuse for the west coast, but it still hurt me to think about the cruel words she used to admonish me for a sin that had no words.  I had a word for it and it was divorce.  My marriage was in shambles within just two years as Jason found that he needed other women to keep his male ego afloat, but mom blamed me for his indiscretions.  Catholic women did not divorce and since I was the first one to travel over the forbidden threshold, I was automatically condemned to Hell.  Even now as I sat in Dale’s comfortable living room where there was a fire going in the fireplace, I could feel the scar wanting to rip open once again.  Dale was still in high school when I made my escape.  Daddy was already gone, eaten by his cancer, he did not even make it to his retirement that he so looked forward to.  He sensed that Jason was unfaithful, but he was too weak by then to voice his disapproval.  My father’s funeral was the last time I was seen in public with Jason.  

Nothing changed it seemed, everything remained constant right up until the end and I sensed that she had passed her vile feelings onto my brother as he did not wish to disrupt the truce, but I could see in his eyes that I was his evil sister.

“The weather is so dreadful.” Beth said breaking the silence.

“Maybe we could have Tiffany come down and play piano.  She has quite a talent.” Dale beamed with pride. 

“That would be terrific.” I lied.  It was not that I did not want my niece to play the grand piano in the next room, it was just that her rendition would remind me of when I would sit at the piano and play for my parents, but mom was always critical of my playing.  She would point out my errors and ask me awkward questions I did not feel like answering.  

When Tiffany finally did wander downstairs, she was wearing a saffron dress that was very girly-girl and matched her very fair complexion with brown pigtails trailing her as she moved and she reminded me of the girl my mother wanted me to be, but I was unable to do.  When I moved in with Gloria, any hope of reconciliation to that sacred image of femininity was washed away.  When she saw me sitting there she squealed, “Aunt Penelope1” 

The hug was unrehearsed, but then she said, “You are the voice of Matilda.  She’s my hero.” 

“Yes dear, I am.” I was hoping not to approach that subject.

“Yes, yes, sweetie, she lives in that part of the world.” Dale shook his head.

“Can you take me there?  I want to see the castle.” She held onto me.

“Castle?” 

“She means Disneyland.” Dale explained as he sipped his bottle of beer.

“We plan to go in a year or so.” Beth smiled.

“Great, you could come visit me.” But when I looked up, I could see my invitation was not well received.

“Perhaps.” Beth looked away.

“Hey Penelope, we have reservations at Sal’s.” Dale announced trying to change the subject.

“God, is that place still in business?” I smiled.

“Best antipasto in the world.” Dale laughed.

All I could remember were the somber paintings that all had a religious connection and the permanent aroma of garlic and olive oil on the walls and even the servers all dressed in black and white.

“Dale said you used to love that place as a child.” Beth was fiddling with Tiffany’s hair ribbon, “Sweetie go play that piece you’ve been practicing.” 

“Sure mom.” He agreed and ran over to the piano bench and lifted the guard exposing the eighty eight black and white keys.  Soon one of Beethoven's sonatas filled the room.  

“Penelope, play more up-tempo.” I could hear her demand.

“Oh Glenda, she’s playing it just fine.” My father would defend me.

“If she plays it sloppy, she’ll remember it sloppy.” I could hear her berate him.

“Bravo.” He would stand and applaud after I finished, but my mother would scowl at the two of us.  

The next morning Dale went by the Westhill Central School over on Cherry and East Grange Road.  Built after World War Two and now aging badly, the school was just as I remembered it when I was a student over twenty years ago.  Built to withstand a direct nuclear strike, the old yellow shelter sign still hung proudly over the American flag in the auditorium.  

“Sorry Mr. Pierce.” I heard one of the teachers remark as Dale went into the classroom to make sure his substitute plans were in order.  

“Thanks Dick.” He waved. “Service is tomorrow.” 

“Prayers to you and the family.” He nodded.

“Hey Dick, this is my sister, Penelope.” He finally acknowledged that I had accompanied him.

“Great to meet you...well not under the circumstances...but…” He fumbled with his words as he scratched his head.

“She’s the voice of Mathilda.” Dale remarked and I could feel that Dick was not going to let me slide out of the auditorium that easily now.

“No kidding?  Oh man, my kid loves that show.” He smiled as wide as he could. “Hey could you do that voice?”

“I’d rather not.” I shook my head.

“C’mon Penelope, do it.” Dale urged me.

“Boys and girls, it’s time for another adventure.” My voice squeaked just like it did when I did the voice over for Mathilda.

“Oh man, that was great.” He laughed, “Thanks.”

“Sure, no problem.” I nodded with my best fake smile.

Dinner at Sal’s was like stepping back into time when dad was still alive and talking about how much better a president Richard Nixon would make than that know-nothing Humphrey.  The salt and pepper shakers were the same as the last time I had come in and I wondered if anyone had ever changed the salt or the pepper since.  Tiffany was telling us how jealous her friends would be to know that her aunt was the voice of Mathilda.

“So how is it living in Hollywood?” Beth asked as she dipped her bread in the olive oil on the plate. 

“I live in Century City.  It’s a nice place.  Has gates.” I explained fiddling with a bread stick.

“Oh a gated community?” She eyed me as Dale sipped his wine. 

“Yeah.” I nodded.

“Verrrryyy nice.” She purred or growled, it was difficult to know the difference. 

“Gloria and I like it fine.” I nodded.

“Gloria?  Like a woman?”  Beth’s expression changed as apparently my brother hadn’t bothered telling her about my living situation.

“Yes.” I nearly choked on my mouthful of bread. 

“Just like my teacher.” Tiffany butted in. 

“No, no, that’s different entirely.” Her voice raised a bit. “She lives with a roommate.” 

How was it different I wondered. I’m sure they were more than roommates, but it was safer and more acceptable to deny it.  I remember how a few of my colleagues told me to keep my relationship with Gloria hush-hush as it would hurt my career, but it didn’t in the long run

“How could you, Penelope?  It is unnatural and morally wrong.” I could hear my mother’s voice over the phone when I told her.

The next morning we met Father Mallory at the church and went over the proper things to be done at the service.  I would say a small piece and then I’d be followed by Dale.  He went over most of the service so we’d know what to expect.

“So you are his sister who lives in Hollywood, eh?” Father Mallory  smiled.

“Yes, yes, from Hollywood.” I nodded as Dale gave me the eye.  

“Wonderful you could come for Glenda’s service.  She was a fine woman.  Helped out in the church many times.  She was wonderful.” He bubbled.

“Good.” I gritted my teeth as he went to put on his vestments for the service.

The service for my mother was entirely forgettable as far as I was concerned, but it was good seeing faces I had not seen in a while, though each long forgotten relative and family friend wanted me to do the “voice” for which I obliged since I knew I would most likely never return for quite a while.  My brief eulogy was about how mom was one of the main influences in my life, but did not say whether it was a good or bad influence and I was content to leave it at that.  Dale spoke a little longer and went into detail on some things from his memory of her.  The choir sang “Amazing Grace” which was one of her favorites and at the graveside, we both threw in a handful of dirt, he because of tradition and me because I wanted to be part of her burial.  I wanted to put more than a handful, but not on her casket, but on the entire past here in my hometown.

I was not the woman my mother wanted me to be and as Dale drove me back to his house where I would begin packing for my trip in the morning, I saw that things as I remembered them had remained constant or was it the other way around.  Was I the one who remained constant while the world around changed?  It didn’t matter, not at this point. Tiffany played one final sonata before I began to pack my suitcase.

“I will miss you Aunt Penny.” Tiffany came into my room.

“And I will miss you, sweetie.” I gave her a big aunt hug. “Be who you want to be, alright.”

“Alright.” She sighed.

“Promise me.” I looked her in the eye.

“Promise.” She repeated.

“Pinky swear.” I held out my hand and she wrapped her pinky around mine.  

Dale drove me to the airport and did not taint his record by helping me with my bags.

“I wished you lived closer.” He hugged me.

“I am close as I want to be.” I laughed. “You can always come out west.”

“Oh, I don’t think Beth would go for that, now.” He let me go.

“I said nothing about bringing her along.” I kissed him on his cheek before he turned and walked away.

“Ticket please.” The woman asked me at the counter. “Oh, Los Angeles?”

“Yes, I’m going home.” I picked up my shoulder bag and headed for security. Nothing had changed, even the fact that my mother was gone, I could still feel the emptiness that coming back to this place brought me.  It made me feel better knowing that my mother was finally at peace, because as her daughter, I don’t think I ever gave her a moment of peace and maybe that was the only thing  that had really changed and for now that was all that mattered.