they call ‘in remission.’ That means I’m sort of hanging in space until the disease comes up and zaps me again.”
“You’re giving up.”
“I’m facing facts.”
“What you’re doing is telling yourself that you’re going to die.”
There is a gasp behind me. I turn to see Julie standing in the open door, her face against the screen.
“Julie!” I say. “I didn’t hear you!”
The door slams, and all I can see is the imprint of her stricken face.
“What a terrible way for her to find out!” I am on my feet, reaching for the door.
But Dave is beside me, and he grabs my arm. “Why don’t you tell her that you’ve got a good chance, too?”
“Because I don’t believe that I have.”
“You don’t know anything for sure. Sit down for a minute. Think this out.”
I sit on the steps next to him, shaking my head, trying to remove the memory of Julie’s face. Dave pulls a leaf from the ligustrum bush that crowds theedge of the steps and turns it over and over as though he’s studying it.
“Look at it this way. Even if you were an attorney—a really good attorney—for ten years, or five years—” He stares right into my eyes. “Even if it was for only one year, Dina, you would have reached a goal, wouldn’t you?”
I jump up. “I can’t talk now. I’ve got to explain things to Julie.”
“Want me to help?”
“No, thanks.”
He stands on the lower step, squinting at me in the sunlight. “I’ll be back.”
“Are you sure you want to?”
He doesn’t have time to answer. The windows rattle with Mrs. Cardenas’s shriek. I stumble up the steps, banging through the pair of doors. Dave is right behind me.
Julie is standing in the middle of the kitchen. Blood is splattered on her clothes, the sink, and the floor.
“She must have tried to chop some more nuts!” Mrs. Cardenas cries. “I told her not to—the knife—she cut—oh!
¡Madre de Dios!
Could it be an artery? We got to stop the bleeding!”
I am at Julie’s side in an instant. It’s not an artery. I know that much from first aid. And I know my pressure points and what to do. Things are under control before my heart is. It’s still popping around in my chest when I take a look at Julie’s woebegone face. It has a good color.
“It looks as though she lost more blood than she did,” I tell Mrs. Cardenas. “See—it’s just a surface cut, and the bleeding has practically stopped. She won’t even need stitches.”
“Should we take her to the doctor?”
“We won’t need to,” I answer. “If you’ve got something to make a bandage with and an antiseptic I’ll take care of it.”
“In the medicine cabinet.” Mrs. Cardenas hurries toward the bathroom.
“How did you know what to do?” Dave seems impressed.
“I teach— I used to teach a first-aid class.”
Mrs. Cardenas returns with gauze pads and tape. “I thought I was watching. A big girl of nine. I told her not to touch the knife. Oh,
pobrecita niña
. I wasn’t careful enough.”
“You were careful, Mrs. Cardenas. Don’t blame yourself. This was Julie’s fault.”
Mrs. Cardenas and Dave have an armful of paper towels and a pan of hot, soapy water, and are mopping the floor and cabinets.
Julie’s gaze is steady, blinkless. “I just wanted to help chop some nuts.”
“You were told not to touch the knife.”
“I forgot. I wanted to help.”
“You heard what I said to Dave. You were upset.”
She nods. “I know. I was upset. That’s why I wasn’t careful. I tried to be careful, but I wasn’t.”
Mrs. Cardenas straightens with a grunt, one hand at her back. “You gave us a terrible scare.”
“I’m sorry,” Julie says. She holds her arm stiffly and examines the bandage.
Dave dries his hands on the seat of his jeans. “I’d better leave,” he says. “But I’ll be back.”
“Tonight? For the brownies?” Mrs. Cardenas asks.
“Sure,” he says.
I walk with him to the door, stepping out onto the porch.
“One
“You’re giving up.”
“I’m facing facts.”
“What you’re doing is telling yourself that you’re going to die.”
There is a gasp behind me. I turn to see Julie standing in the open door, her face against the screen.
“Julie!” I say. “I didn’t hear you!”
The door slams, and all I can see is the imprint of her stricken face.
“What a terrible way for her to find out!” I am on my feet, reaching for the door.
But Dave is beside me, and he grabs my arm. “Why don’t you tell her that you’ve got a good chance, too?”
“Because I don’t believe that I have.”
“You don’t know anything for sure. Sit down for a minute. Think this out.”
I sit on the steps next to him, shaking my head, trying to remove the memory of Julie’s face. Dave pulls a leaf from the ligustrum bush that crowds theedge of the steps and turns it over and over as though he’s studying it.
“Look at it this way. Even if you were an attorney—a really good attorney—for ten years, or five years—” He stares right into my eyes. “Even if it was for only one year, Dina, you would have reached a goal, wouldn’t you?”
I jump up. “I can’t talk now. I’ve got to explain things to Julie.”
“Want me to help?”
“No, thanks.”
He stands on the lower step, squinting at me in the sunlight. “I’ll be back.”
“Are you sure you want to?”
He doesn’t have time to answer. The windows rattle with Mrs. Cardenas’s shriek. I stumble up the steps, banging through the pair of doors. Dave is right behind me.
Julie is standing in the middle of the kitchen. Blood is splattered on her clothes, the sink, and the floor.
“She must have tried to chop some more nuts!” Mrs. Cardenas cries. “I told her not to—the knife—she cut—oh!
¡Madre de Dios!
Could it be an artery? We got to stop the bleeding!”
I am at Julie’s side in an instant. It’s not an artery. I know that much from first aid. And I know my pressure points and what to do. Things are under control before my heart is. It’s still popping around in my chest when I take a look at Julie’s woebegone face. It has a good color.
“It looks as though she lost more blood than she did,” I tell Mrs. Cardenas. “See—it’s just a surface cut, and the bleeding has practically stopped. She won’t even need stitches.”
“Should we take her to the doctor?”
“We won’t need to,” I answer. “If you’ve got something to make a bandage with and an antiseptic I’ll take care of it.”
“In the medicine cabinet.” Mrs. Cardenas hurries toward the bathroom.
“How did you know what to do?” Dave seems impressed.
“I teach— I used to teach a first-aid class.”
Mrs. Cardenas returns with gauze pads and tape. “I thought I was watching. A big girl of nine. I told her not to touch the knife. Oh,
pobrecita niña
. I wasn’t careful enough.”
“You were careful, Mrs. Cardenas. Don’t blame yourself. This was Julie’s fault.”
Mrs. Cardenas and Dave have an armful of paper towels and a pan of hot, soapy water, and are mopping the floor and cabinets.
Julie’s gaze is steady, blinkless. “I just wanted to help chop some nuts.”
“You were told not to touch the knife.”
“I forgot. I wanted to help.”
“You heard what I said to Dave. You were upset.”
She nods. “I know. I was upset. That’s why I wasn’t careful. I tried to be careful, but I wasn’t.”
Mrs. Cardenas straightens with a grunt, one hand at her back. “You gave us a terrible scare.”
“I’m sorry,” Julie says. She holds her arm stiffly and examines the bandage.
Dave dries his hands on the seat of his jeans. “I’d better leave,” he says. “But I’ll be back.”
“Tonight? For the brownies?” Mrs. Cardenas asks.
“Sure,” he says.
I walk with him to the door, stepping out onto the porch.
“One
Similar Books
