Her Mother's Daughter by Marilyn French Page A

cry (impossible!) and he reached out a hand toward Momma, and then he bent over and in a great gasp vomited all over the floor. Momma cried out and ran to him; the children stood where they were, unmoving, staring. On the floor around Poppa was a pool of blood—everywhere—on the walls, on his lovely jacket and vest—oh!
    Momma screamed, she just screamed. She screamed at Bella, “Go get the doctor!” and at Eddie, “Help me get him to the couch!” But the children were paralyzed. Momma kept screaming at them, she looked crazy, she screeched, and finally Eddie moved to her side and grabbed Poppa’s other arm. Poppa was limp, his head was hanging down and he was breathing heavily through his mouth. Momma still screamed at Bella. Bella remained where she was.
    Always me, she thought. Whenever anything has to be done, it’s me she calls. Why can’t one of the others go? Why is she screaming? She moved forward a step, reluctantly, leaving her cocoa and rye bread untouched.
    â€œI don’t know where the doctor lives!” she cried.
    Momma stood up straight and sighed, as if Bella were an idiot. “You go down two blocks to the pork store, then turn left and go to the middle of the second block, Dr. Dlugosz, you’ll see the sign, tell him to come right away, right away, it’s an emergency!”
    Bella went, delivered her message, and returned. By that time, some of the neighbor women had arrived, and were standing with their arms around Momma looking down at Poppa, who seemed to be sleeping. Bella went to her place at table and sat down and began to drink her cocoa, but it was cold. She ate her rye bread. The other children were also sitting at the table, utterly silent. The servant girl had removed their plates and cups, but they still sat there. They didn’t seem to be going to school. Bella was not unhappy about that, and when she was finished with her bread, she too sat on.
    The doctor arrived, and all the children, as if a signal had been given, slipped down from the table. Bella didn’t know where they went. She also left the room, and looking around first, slipped into the living room and tiptoed over to the window and slipped behind the curtain. She stood there for a long time, barely seeing the people walking on the street below, the pushcarts going by, the horse-drawn drays and coaches. She had long blond curls and blue eyes and was standing in a beautiful house gazing out at the sea, waiting for the sun to go down. She was wearing a beautiful pink dress and had pink ribbons in her hair, and behind her was a happy silence, the quiet of order and peace.
    After a long time, she returned to the dining room. Four or five women sat at the table with Momma drinking glasses of tea. Father was gone. Euga was sitting on Momma’s lap, whimpering.
    â€œQuiet!” Momma yelled. Then she said roughly to Bella, “Take her away, take her!” Bella stared at Momma: Momma never talked like that. Momma’s face went wild again, she screamed at Bella, “Take her and go, get out, get out! Take care of her!”
    She stood Euga on the floor roughly and Euga cried. Momma put her head in her hands and began to cry too. The women gathered around her, stroking her back, saying soothing words. Poor Pani Brez, there there. Bella took Euga’s hand and pushed open the outside door. Euga wouldn’t let go of her hand, even going down the stairs. They reached the sidewalk and Bella realized it was still a little chilly and they had no coats. But she was afraid to go back upstairs. Nor did she know where else to go. They could go to the stationery store for candy, but Bella had no money. They could go to the playground three blocks away, but Bella was frightened of the big boys who played there. At a diagonal, across the street, was a nickelodeon. Bella had never been inside it—it cost a nickel—but there were always photographs outside showing the