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.�Only�because�someone�among�the�killers�recognized�me�was�I�saved.�Now�when�I�tell�my�stories,�I�remember�that�moment.�It�makes�the�telling�more�urgent.�How�is�your�mother?""Fine,�I�guess.�Just�very�tired.""You�know,�when�I�was�little,�my�mother�would�put�me�to�sleep�by Page�278describing�rooms�in�all�the�houses�she'd�lived�in.�And�so�many�things�happened�in�those�rooms.�Now�you�can�hardly�find�a�house�in�which�someone�has�died�or�been�born.�It�all�happens�away�from�us,�in�big�hospitals.""My�mother�told�me�a�story�yesterday,"�I�said.�And�I�described�to�him�my�mother's�journey�to�the�harvest�fields�with�the�bucket�of�water,�and�the�journey�back�to�the�well,�and�the�cold�water�on�her�wrists.He�was�silent�for�so�long�that�I�felt�I�had�said�something�foolish."The�cold�water it's�such�an�unimportant�detail,"�I�remarked."Unimportant?"�he�exclaimed.�"That�is�why�it's�worth�remembering.�When�I�was�young�I�fell�in�love�with�a�girl�named�Hilda�who�happened�to�be�a�twin.�I�asked�her�to�go�out�with�me.�She�agreed�to�go,�but�only�if�I�could�tell�her�apart�from�her�sister.�I�studied�her�face�for�several�minutes.�Then�she�ran�and�got�her�twin.�Hilda�had�a�blue�vein�on�the�bridge�of�her�nose.�Unimportant,�a�blue�vein,�but�when�I�spied�it,�I�knew�I�was�saved.""I'll�save�that�detail�about�the�cold�water�for�my�next�story,"�I�assured�him.He�wagged�a�finger�at�me."Don't�save�it.�Use�it,�use�it�now.�You�just�threw�out�your�life�savings.�This�is�no�time�for�prudence."We�passed�Jerry's�Good�and�Used.�My�storyteller�did�not�go�in.�Instead�he�kept�pace�with�me,�up�the�hill�to�Shady�Park�Manor."May�I�tell�you�a�story�as�we�take�this�little�walk�together?�Long�ago,�when�wizards�still�walked�the�length�and�breadth�of�the�earth,�there�arrived�in�the�world�of�the�dead�a�great�magician."'Why�have�you�come�here?'�asked�the�Mistress�of�the�Dead.The�magician�explained�that�when�he�was�building�his�boat�he�found�he�could�not�finish�it�without�four�magic�words,�and�that�he�had�not�been�able�to�find�them,�however�far�he�traveled."'The�Lord�of�the�Dead�will�never�teach�you�his�spells,'�answered�the�Mistress�of�the�Dead.But�the�magician�would�not�give�up�the�task�of�finishing�his�boat.�He�wandered�here�and�there�until�one�day�he�met�a�shepherd�who�told�him�to�seek�out�the�giant."'In�his�vast�mouth�there�are�a�hundred�magic�words.�You�will�have�to�go�down�into�his�enormous�belly�and�there�you�will�learn�marvels.�But�it's�not�easy�to�get�there.�You�must�go�along�a�path�leaping�on�the�points�of�women's�needles,�and�over�a�cross�road�paved�with�sharp�swords,�and�down�a�third�road�made�of�the�blades�of�heroes'�axes.'But�the�magician�was�determined�to�try�it.�He�would�do�anything�to Page�279find�those�four�words�and�finish�his�boat.�Four�words!�Marvelous�words!�Would�you�believe�I�once�bought�a�photography�book�because�of�a�single�sentence?�I�was�standing�in�Tucker's it's�a�block�down�the�street�from�us and�I�opened�up�a�book�and�read�the�epigraph�on�the�first�page.�It�was�the�beginning�and�the�ending�of�Finnegans�Wake.A�way�a�lone�a�last�a�loved�along�the�riverrun,�past�Eve�and�Adam'sRight�away�I�wanted�to�read�Finnegans�Wake.�But�Tucker's�didn't�have�it.�And�the�library�was�closed�for�a�week.�But�how�could�I�live�without�those�words?�So�I�bought�the�photography�book.�I�bought�it�for�those�words."We�arrived�at�Shady�Park."It�is�good�you�are�listening�to�your�mother.""I'm�going�to�write�her�memories�down.�I�don't�want�to�forget�them.""If�you�forget�a�few,�don't�worry.�What�you�need�will�come�back�to�you.�We�don't�really�understand�something�until�we�have�forgotten�it.�Live�in�your�roots,�not�in�your�branches."I�took�the�elevator�to�the�second�floor.�When�I�stepped�out�a�nurse�hurried�up�to�me."Your�mother�had�a�seizure�last�night.�We�phoned�for�the�ambulance�just�an�hour�ago.�Call�Dr.�Rubin�right�away you�can�use�the�phone�at�the�nurse's�station."The�voice�of�medical�authority�at�the�other�end�of�the�phone�named�the�problem:�staxis�epilepsicus.�Dr.�Rubin�explained�he�had�given�her�Valium�and�phenobarbital."It�took�us�over�an�hour�to�stop�her�seizures.�Now�she's�asleep.""Did�she�have�a�stroke?""This�morning�I�thought�yes.�When�I�looked�at�the�CAT�scan,�I�thought�no.�Her�brain�is�shrunken,�and�there's�an�abnormal�pattern�of�electric�ions.�It's�probably�caused�by�the�little�strokes�she's�had�earlier.""I'll�be�right�over."I�hung�up�and�the�nurse�touched�my�arm."I'm�so�sorry,"�she�said.�"Let�me�call�you�a�cab."I�waited�downstairs�for�the�cab.�The�receptionist�was�changing�the�bulletin�board,�posting�the�new�activities.�Bingo,�Sensory�Stimulation,�Current�Events,�Patio�Outing.A�way�a�lone�a�last�a�loved�along�the�riverrun.Dr.�Rubin�and�I�are�standing�by�my�mother's�bed�in�the�intensive�care�section.�Mother�is�sleeping�under�the�watchful�gaze�of�the�IV�and�the Page�280blood�pressure�basket�hanging�over�her�bead,�its�black�tubes�coiled�into�a�nest.�Over�the�basket�a�large�plastic�bottle�bubbles�and�quakes.�This�is�not�the�first�time�I�have�seen�Mother�in�intensive�care."When�do�you�think�she'll�wake�up?"�I�ask.The�doctor�shrugs."Who�knows?�It�could�be�tomorrow.�It�could�be�in�ten�minutes.�Or�it�could�be�never."I�reach�out�and�touch�her�hair,�still�soft�and�wavy,�and�the�translucent�skin�on�her�temple:�pale�freckled�silk.�The�doctor�pulls�away�the�plastic�respirator�that�covers�the�center�of�her�face�with�a�clear�green�beak,�and�her�sunken�cheeks�flutter�in�and�out�like�the�throat�of�a�frightened�bird.�A�tube�snakes�out�of�her�nose,�ready�for�her�next�feeding.�Her�mouth�is�a�small�black�hole.�The�doctor�leans�close�to�her�face,�as�if�he�might�kiss�her.�Then�he�pries�open�her�eyelids�and�looks�deeply�into�her�pupils�and�calls,"Mrs�Williams!�Mrs.�Williams!"Two�green�gray�coins�stare�back�at�him,�as�cold�and�indifferent�as�the�eyes�of�a�fish.�I�feel�my�knees�growing�weak�and�I�sit�down�fast�on�the�edge�of�her�bed."Can�she�hear�us�now?""Possibly.�There's�no�way�of�knowing�for�sure."When�he�leaves�us�alone�together,�I�take�her�hand,�frail�as�the�claw�of�a�wren.�The�IV�has�left�a�deep�bruise�on�her�arm.�How�old�it�looks,�this�arm,�limp�when�I�lift�it,�a�mottled�mineral�brown,�across�which�white�scars�move�like�the�shapes�of�ancient�beasts.I�know�I�will�never�see�her�alive�again.�I�do�not�know�if�she�can�hear.�I�put�my�mouth�close�to�her�ear�and�tell�her�I�love�her.�I�thank�her�for�telling�me�about�the�cold�water.�I�tell�that�I�lost�my�story�in�Pittsburgh,�a�story�about�angels.�I�lost�it�at�the�laundromat,�and�I�met�a�man�who�told�me�how�to�find�it�again.�Maybe�he�wasn't�a�man�at�all,�maybe�he�was�the�story�angel?�He�did�not�have�wings�but�who�needs�wings�in�Pittsburgh?�Though�my�mouth�is�touching�her�ear,�I�feel�my�mother�going�farther�and�farther�away.�I�want�to�talk�to�her�till�she�is�out�of�earshot.�Though�she�is�traveling�with�empty�hands,�I�do�not�want�my�mother,�who�has�given�me�so�much,�to�leave�with�an�empty�heart.�I�give�her�an�angel,�a�daughter,�and�herself.�And�I�give�her�my�promise�to�save�them:�once�upon�a�time. Page�281Twenty�QuestionsHilma�WolitzerMovie�stars�are�always�asked�what�seem�like�extremely�nosy�and�extraneous�questions.�"What�do�you�wear�to�bed?"�is�probably�the�most�famous�of�them�all,�and�the�most�famous�answer,�usually�attributed�to�Marilyn�Monroe,�is,�simply,�"Chanel�No.�5."�Very�entertaining,�but�is�it�useful�information?�That�depends�on�who's�trying�to�use�it [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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