Read Online After Peaches by Michelle Mulder - Free Book Online Page B

of Julie’s mother. I closed my eyes. Julie’s mother would wait patiently and listen. She would do her best to understand. With any luck, this nurse might do the same.
    I took a deep breath and spoke in a voice so small that the nurse leaned closer to hear me.
    â€œJosé works on a cherry farm,” I said; then I stopped. Papá squeezed my shoulder. I took another deep breath and continued slowly, so slowly that I imagined the nurse yelling at me to get on with the story. Suddenly, I was aware of how many other people were in the waiting room, people who had no trouble saying what they needed. This nurse could look after any one of them, and if I took too long with my story, she might.
    But if I was going to tell it, I’d have to do it carefully, in my own time.
    â€œMy parents and I went to dere”—I winced at my mistake—“went to th e farm today. My parents th ink José is sick because he had to—” Panic rose in my throat. I didn’t know the right words, and the nurse was waiting for me, and if I got it wrong… “He put someting on the trees to make them healty,” I said, forcing the words out faster and faster, ignoring all my mistakes. “My parents tink dat is why he is sick now. Dey say he needed someting to cover his mouth and his nose and his hands. On some farms, people wear someting on the face and the hands, but not here. And José did not complain. He did not want to come to the hospital. He needs to work.”
    The nurse nodded and scribbled notes on paper, not looking up.
    I screwed my eyes shut again, thinking frantically. My throat was dry, and my heart was racing. Did I make it clear that it was my parents, not José, who thought he got sick from spraying the plants? Would the nurse write it down that way?
    â€œHe must feel better soon,” I blurted, no longer caring how my English sounded. “He needs to work so dat his family can eat. In Mexico, he could not find a job. He wants his children to eat and to go to school. Analía wants to be a teacher and her brother wants to work in the city. José came to Canada so his children can do dose tings.” And suddenly, I realized something that I hadn’t understood before, something that was true for my parents too. “He came so dey do not grow up and work on farms like he does.”
    I finished speaking and opened my eyes, making a flood of tears stream down my face. I wiped them away fast because I wasn’t a kid that cried. Not when we left our town, not when all our stuff got stolen and Papá got hurt, not when we had to live in Guatemala City for almost a year, and certainly not when stupid Robbie Zec made fun of me. I was tougher than that. That’s what my brother, Ricardo, had always said: You’ve got to be tough.
    But at the same time, I felt awful. I’m sorry, Analía . I told all your secrets. I didn’t know what else to do.

    â€œPesticide poisoning,” the doctor said. He was a thin man with square wire glasses, a white coat and an accent that wasn’t Canadian. Maybe English was his second language too. He’d become a doctor anyway.
    We were all standing around José’s hospital bed, a tall one that made me feel tiny. I didn’t understand what the doctor was talking about, and I was still clutching my notebook as if it could stop everything from flying apart.
    I saw confusion on my parents’ faces, and this time I didn’t hesitate to ask a question.“I’m sorry,” I told the doctor in English. “I do not understand. Could you please explain?”
    The words came out fine. I’d talked so much already that night that it was less scary to speak English with strangers. Every time I opened my mouth, my parents looked at me like I was some kind of hero.
    â€œPesticide poisoning,” the doctor said, “means that José was spraying the cherry trees with a special chemical to keep