question,” he says in a low voice. “If someone is chopping nuts and the knife slips, they cut a finger or thumb. Right?”
“I know,” I answer. “I wondered how she cut her arm instead.”
The honeysuckle fragrance is strong in the hot noon sun. It’s cloying and drowsy and makes a lie of the emotional upheaval we’ve just been through. For an instant I close my eyes. Then I look at Dave. “I’ll talk to her,” I say. “I’ve got to explain what she overheard.”
He nods. “See you later.”
I don’t watch him leave. I go back into the house, to the hum of the air conditioner and the blasts of cooler air, but it’s not that which makes me shiver.
Julie is sitting in one of the big deep red over-stuffed chairs. I sit across from her in a matching chair, feeling as though I’m in the mouth of a large, plush lion who is going to swallow me at any minute. I can hear Mrs. Cardenas on the phone again. She’s speaking in Spanish, rapidly, excitedly.
“There’s blood on your shirt,” Julie says.
“I know, and on your clothes, too. In a few minutes we can change, and I’ll wash them out.”
“It was just an accident,” Julie says.
“Let’s talk about something else. About what you overheard.”
“You’re going to die, too.”
“Julie, I don’t know when. No one really knows when they’re going to die. This disease I’ve got can stay in remission for years.”
“For a long time?”
I begin to parrot what I’ve been told. “Dr. Cruz said that right now there’s a good chance for a cure. In the future something may be discovered that will cure everyone who gets Hodgkin’s. At some time the disease may be wiped out.”
“The way you say it, I can tell you don’t believe it,” Julie says. “You don’t care.”
“What if I care too much and don’t make it through college? Or hope too hard and don’t make it through law school? What if I want to fall in love, but the disease comes back? It’s that caring and wondering and hurting that I don’t think I can handle.” Am I talking to Julie or to myself?
“I don’t want to be alone,” she says.
“Oh, Julie, you aren’t alone. I’m sorry you’re upset about what I said. I didn’t explain myself very well, I guess.” Why did I expect a nine-year-old to understand all this?
She stares at me with those solemn eyes. “My father died,” she says abruptly, startling me. “Sikes killed him. It was dark one night, and they foughtand kept banging into the side of our mobile home. I was scared and I screamed, but my mother tried to make me be quiet. Somebody called the police, I think.”
She is quiet, staring at something only she can see.
“Julie,” I ask, “did Sikes threaten your father after they fought? Did he say he’d get even?”
Julie turns and looks at me. “Dina,” she says, “there’s something I want to show you.”
“Now?”
“No,” she says. “I’ll tell you when.”
CHAPTER
9
Mrs. Cardenas’s party is a clustering of relatives, all sizes and ages and shapes. Mr. Cardenas is having as much fun as his wife. He argues politics with anyone who will listen, a strand of gray hair flopping on his forehead as his head punctuates his remarks.
“Dina,” he says every time he passes me, “are you having a good time? Do you like the party?” His weathered cheeks are crinkled with laugh lines, and the black eyes that peer over the top of his out-of-shape wire-frame glasses are interested, eager.
“Most of the time,” he confides to me in a voice that can be heard throughout the room, “I’d rather sleep in my chair than hear all these noisy relations,but sometimes it’s a good thing for everyone to be together.”
I meet Carmen and Dolores and many people whose names I can’t remember. There are a number of children, but Julie clings to my side and doesn’t attempt to talk to them.
Arturo, the policeman, is there. I am as curious to meet these relatives of Mrs. Cardenas as they are to
“I know,” I answer. “I wondered how she cut her arm instead.”
The honeysuckle fragrance is strong in the hot noon sun. It’s cloying and drowsy and makes a lie of the emotional upheaval we’ve just been through. For an instant I close my eyes. Then I look at Dave. “I’ll talk to her,” I say. “I’ve got to explain what she overheard.”
He nods. “See you later.”
I don’t watch him leave. I go back into the house, to the hum of the air conditioner and the blasts of cooler air, but it’s not that which makes me shiver.
Julie is sitting in one of the big deep red over-stuffed chairs. I sit across from her in a matching chair, feeling as though I’m in the mouth of a large, plush lion who is going to swallow me at any minute. I can hear Mrs. Cardenas on the phone again. She’s speaking in Spanish, rapidly, excitedly.
“There’s blood on your shirt,” Julie says.
“I know, and on your clothes, too. In a few minutes we can change, and I’ll wash them out.”
“It was just an accident,” Julie says.
“Let’s talk about something else. About what you overheard.”
“You’re going to die, too.”
“Julie, I don’t know when. No one really knows when they’re going to die. This disease I’ve got can stay in remission for years.”
“For a long time?”
I begin to parrot what I’ve been told. “Dr. Cruz said that right now there’s a good chance for a cure. In the future something may be discovered that will cure everyone who gets Hodgkin’s. At some time the disease may be wiped out.”
“The way you say it, I can tell you don’t believe it,” Julie says. “You don’t care.”
“What if I care too much and don’t make it through college? Or hope too hard and don’t make it through law school? What if I want to fall in love, but the disease comes back? It’s that caring and wondering and hurting that I don’t think I can handle.” Am I talking to Julie or to myself?
“I don’t want to be alone,” she says.
“Oh, Julie, you aren’t alone. I’m sorry you’re upset about what I said. I didn’t explain myself very well, I guess.” Why did I expect a nine-year-old to understand all this?
She stares at me with those solemn eyes. “My father died,” she says abruptly, startling me. “Sikes killed him. It was dark one night, and they foughtand kept banging into the side of our mobile home. I was scared and I screamed, but my mother tried to make me be quiet. Somebody called the police, I think.”
She is quiet, staring at something only she can see.
“Julie,” I ask, “did Sikes threaten your father after they fought? Did he say he’d get even?”
Julie turns and looks at me. “Dina,” she says, “there’s something I want to show you.”
“Now?”
“No,” she says. “I’ll tell you when.”
CHAPTER
9
Mrs. Cardenas’s party is a clustering of relatives, all sizes and ages and shapes. Mr. Cardenas is having as much fun as his wife. He argues politics with anyone who will listen, a strand of gray hair flopping on his forehead as his head punctuates his remarks.
“Dina,” he says every time he passes me, “are you having a good time? Do you like the party?” His weathered cheeks are crinkled with laugh lines, and the black eyes that peer over the top of his out-of-shape wire-frame glasses are interested, eager.
“Most of the time,” he confides to me in a voice that can be heard throughout the room, “I’d rather sleep in my chair than hear all these noisy relations,but sometimes it’s a good thing for everyone to be together.”
I meet Carmen and Dolores and many people whose names I can’t remember. There are a number of children, but Julie clings to my side and doesn’t attempt to talk to them.
Arturo, the policeman, is there. I am as curious to meet these relatives of Mrs. Cardenas as they are to
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