Be Frank With Me by Julia Claiborne Johnson Page A

hair, as if he needed to make sure his own brain was still under there someplace.
    â€œIt’s okay, Frank,” Mimi said. Then, to Tinkerbell, “He’s my son.”
    â€œOh.” Tinkerbell’s eyes flicked from Mimi to Frank to me. “I thought—oh, forget what I thought. Doesn’t matter.”
    By then Frank had uprooted a tuft of hair. I took it from him and slid it into my pocket, but not before everyone else had seen it, too. “Stop that,” I murmured, aiming for the tone my mother used on me when I cracked my knuckles in church. I didn’t want to make a big deal of it.
    â€œI’d better see where we are on that MRI list,” Tinkerbell said, hanging Mimi’s chart on the end of her cot and smiling overbrightly before slipping away.
    â€œYou two should get going,” Mimi said.
    â€œI don’t want to leave you here alone,” I said.
    â€œThis is not a negotiation. You and Frank need to clear out. Now.”
    â€œYou aren’t coming with us?” Frank asked.
    â€œThe doctors need to keep an eye on me here tonight. Alice needs you at home. She’s afraid of being by herself.”
    â€œIt’s true,” I volunteered. “I’m terrified of the dark.”
    â€œThere’s nothing in the dark to be afraid of,” Frank said. “It’s out there, and we’re in here. You’re safe as long as I’m with you.”
    â€œI’m lucky to have you then, huh, Frank?” I said.
    â€œYes,” he said.
    â€œSo am I,” Mimi said. “I love you, Frank.”
    Frank didn’t answer. I could see his shoulders rising. “We need to go, Frank,” I said. “You heard your mother.”
    Frank threw his shoulders back when I said that, saluted smartly and said, “Aye-aye, Alice! Tell me, do you have the stupid parking ticket, or are we doomed?”
    â€œ DO YOU NEED me to fly out?” Mr. Vargas asked when I called the next night, after Mimi had been released from the hospital. It was pushing midnight in New York. I’d hoped he’d still be awake but I could tell by the groggy sound of his voice that he must have been asleep for a while already.
    â€œNo. Don’t worry. I have everything under control now. Sorry to call so late, but I wanted to give you a heads-up in case word leaked out.”
    â€œDid anybody recognize her?”
    â€œI don’t think so.”
    â€œIs she okay?”
    While I was formulating my answer, Mimi asked, “Who are you talking to?” I was in the living room, alone I thought, watching a smeary-looking evening settle over the city through the plastic I’d taped over the hole where the door used to be. By some miracle Frank was sleeping, and had been since just before Mimi got home from the hospital in the late afternoon.
    As for the patient, I’d convinced Mimi to change out of the blood-encrusted cardigan and jeans she’d worn to the hospital and into a set of my sweats. From my dealings with the laundry I gathered Mimi didn’t own gym clothes. She slept in lacy white cotton nightgowns that I worried would be ruined if her bandages oozed. Mimi was surprisingly okay with wearing my sweats but refused to let me help her change into them. She did let me tuck her into bed, though, where she’d conked out right away. But like Lazarus, she had risen again and materialized behind me, her hands swallowed by my sweatshirt’s overlong sleeves, her hollow-eyed, bandaged head shrouded in its gray hood, a crimson NEBRASKA emblazoned across her chest. I almost fainted when I saw her.
    â€œIt’s Mr. Vargas,” I said. “I didn’t want him to worry, in case word got out you’d been hurt. The nurse told me I should fix an ice pack for you to hold to your stitches to keep the swelling down. Now that you’re up I’ll do that.”
    â€œGive me the phone.”
    I helped Mimi settle on the sofa and