Read Online Amriika by M. G. Vassanji - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: M. G. Vassanji
Tags: General Fiction
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was the meaning of this?
“Aw,” she cried, wiping her eyes. “Even if you don’t mean it, thank you.”
“But I do mean it,” he said, staring at her baldness, then her face, still glorious. “Put it back.”
“Better?” she asked, putting the wig back on her head. He didn’t reply. “It’s from my chemotherapy treatment — I’ve got cancer in my abdomen.”
Stunned, all of a sudden his heart in his stomach, he choked back the words in his mouth, then recovered and said, “It’s not bad? This chemotherapy — it works?”
She nodded.
“They say it does, but who knows. I lost my hair and my face is pudgy.”
“It doesn’t look pudgy.”
What a time for her family to abandon her.
They lay side by side and she talked. “I want to tell you about myself.”
“Please do, that would be lovely. I’ve often wondered.…I’m very curious.”
He imagined, with her dreamy prompting, a modest American family in Florida. She was one of three sisters and a brother, Chris, who had been killed in the war. It took a moment to realize she meant World War II. Where, he asked. I don’t know, she replied. He meant: against the Japanese or the Germans, in Asia or in Europe. (The war evoked images of heroism in him, he had known it only from the movies.) But he didn’t persist. Her father had worked at an ice cream factory and would bring home buckets of the stuff (“that’s why we’re all so creamy and soft”); weekends he moonlighted at the Post Office. She herself finished high school and went to work at Woolworths. “Never was good at school,” she said. “Not like you — I bet you topped everything.” He turned to look at her: “But that’s not everything, is it.” “No,” she said, showing surprise at his comment, “I guess it isn’t.” One summer in ’49, she and her two sisters took off for Baltimore and Washington. With no intention of returning. “Why? Oh, Dad was sick and had retired, Mother never recovered from Chris’s death, she drank. It had become a miserable house and we wanted fun.” Fun they had,three beautiful blondes. Her sister Pat, who was the youngest of them, found a boy on the train up and married him in September — “she pretty much had to the way they went on. Never thought my shy sister capable of so much reckless passion. She’s a widow now, in Annapolis, but with a brilliant son in the navy — like his father — did I tell you he was in the navy?”
“And you — how did you —”
“I stayed with Pat and learned to type, and then one day Frank — Pat’s husband — brought home this serious specimen on a blind date and I gasped. What’s that? I asked Frank. So that’s how I met John. He was at Johns Hopkins on a veteran’s scholarship. He took me to meet his mother, who took one look at me and said to him: Are you sure? You’ll have to put a leash on her. Oh, we got along from day one, his mom and I.”
And her older sister Sharon became a nurse and married — or just cohabited with — a rich old man. She knew how to take care of herself. She was a professional golfer now. “You should meet her — she’ll sweep you off your feet.”
She left him with a kiss. Yes, she loved him, she said. Would there be other moments like this, he was afraid to ask her.
“Call me,” he begged.
“Of course I will,” she said. “We’ll meet again, silly. Remember what I said, you come whenever you feel like it, and call collect.”
And the sin he’d just committed, the guilty secret.…He didn’t think about it, not then, this was one glorious night without darkness, and he slept hugging his pillow.
“Nice little bourgeois retreat you’ve got yourself here,” Gudrun said, as he opened the front door for her. She had on a striking new-looking red angora sweater over the patched worn-out blue jeans he recognized from the trip down. “I bet these people vote Nixon.” She walked past him, asked to use a bathroom.
“There’s a powder room
“Aw,” she cried, wiping her eyes. “Even if you don’t mean it, thank you.”
“But I do mean it,” he said, staring at her baldness, then her face, still glorious. “Put it back.”
“Better?” she asked, putting the wig back on her head. He didn’t reply. “It’s from my chemotherapy treatment — I’ve got cancer in my abdomen.”
Stunned, all of a sudden his heart in his stomach, he choked back the words in his mouth, then recovered and said, “It’s not bad? This chemotherapy — it works?”
She nodded.
“They say it does, but who knows. I lost my hair and my face is pudgy.”
“It doesn’t look pudgy.”
What a time for her family to abandon her.
They lay side by side and she talked. “I want to tell you about myself.”
“Please do, that would be lovely. I’ve often wondered.…I’m very curious.”
He imagined, with her dreamy prompting, a modest American family in Florida. She was one of three sisters and a brother, Chris, who had been killed in the war. It took a moment to realize she meant World War II. Where, he asked. I don’t know, she replied. He meant: against the Japanese or the Germans, in Asia or in Europe. (The war evoked images of heroism in him, he had known it only from the movies.) But he didn’t persist. Her father had worked at an ice cream factory and would bring home buckets of the stuff (“that’s why we’re all so creamy and soft”); weekends he moonlighted at the Post Office. She herself finished high school and went to work at Woolworths. “Never was good at school,” she said. “Not like you — I bet you topped everything.” He turned to look at her: “But that’s not everything, is it.” “No,” she said, showing surprise at his comment, “I guess it isn’t.” One summer in ’49, she and her two sisters took off for Baltimore and Washington. With no intention of returning. “Why? Oh, Dad was sick and had retired, Mother never recovered from Chris’s death, she drank. It had become a miserable house and we wanted fun.” Fun they had,three beautiful blondes. Her sister Pat, who was the youngest of them, found a boy on the train up and married him in September — “she pretty much had to the way they went on. Never thought my shy sister capable of so much reckless passion. She’s a widow now, in Annapolis, but with a brilliant son in the navy — like his father — did I tell you he was in the navy?”
“And you — how did you —”
“I stayed with Pat and learned to type, and then one day Frank — Pat’s husband — brought home this serious specimen on a blind date and I gasped. What’s that? I asked Frank. So that’s how I met John. He was at Johns Hopkins on a veteran’s scholarship. He took me to meet his mother, who took one look at me and said to him: Are you sure? You’ll have to put a leash on her. Oh, we got along from day one, his mom and I.”
And her older sister Sharon became a nurse and married — or just cohabited with — a rich old man. She knew how to take care of herself. She was a professional golfer now. “You should meet her — she’ll sweep you off your feet.”
She left him with a kiss. Yes, she loved him, she said. Would there be other moments like this, he was afraid to ask her.
“Call me,” he begged.
“Of course I will,” she said. “We’ll meet again, silly. Remember what I said, you come whenever you feel like it, and call collect.”
And the sin he’d just committed, the guilty secret.…He didn’t think about it, not then, this was one glorious night without darkness, and he slept hugging his pillow.
“Nice little bourgeois retreat you’ve got yourself here,” Gudrun said, as he opened the front door for her. She had on a striking new-looking red angora sweater over the patched worn-out blue jeans he recognized from the trip down. “I bet these people vote Nixon.” She walked past him, asked to use a bathroom.
“There’s a powder room
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