Read Online Red Lightning by Laura Pritchett - Free Book Online

crotch.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  Not wanting to lose potential love or attention.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  Tess used to feel the same way about Baxter.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  Wanting to hold his kind attention.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  She never told him that, never told him goodbye.
    I dig my fingernails into my wrist. “Sick with what?”
    She scans the house, as if scanning her brain for the right words. “She stepped on a board with nails in it, and one went almost clear through her foot. This was last year. When she went in, it was all infected. So she was on antibiotics. And she would have been fine. But then she went into the river. She was fishing, and she waded in.”
    â€œThe Arkansas?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong with walking in the river? I used to all the time.”
    â€œWell, she got these bumps on her leg. And that’s called staph.”
    â€œOh, boy. I know about staph.”
    â€œNot this kind of staph. It’s new. It’s like that kind you get in hospitals, but worse.”
    â€œIs that true? A new strain?”
    â€œYes.” She looks at her feet, as if they might be contaminated. “It’s the kind that antibiotics don’t work on. So she was in the hospital in Denver for a long time. Getting drugs through her arm. I got to go to Denver. I saw the botanic gardens and the art museum and the mint, where they make money.”
    I have a sudden vacuum of a realization. All these places are places I took Alejandra to when she was about this age. My other daughter, the one I chose to bring into my life. I recover from the recoil and glance back at Amber. “So why is she still sick, then? After all that?”
    â€œThe staph keeps coming back. It won’t . . . it just won’t die.”
    â€œAnd she’s home now?”
    â€œShe lives in Baxter’s old house. She’s ready to die now. She won’t go back to the hospital. She’s got a bunch of big ugly sores. It’s probably the grossest thing you’ll ever see. Either Mom or Dad goes over there every morning and every night, to hook up the antibiotics to the IV. My mom scrapes off her skin once a week.” She takes a bit of cake and then regards it and takes another bite. “It tastes okay if you pretend it’s not supposed to be cake. If you just tell yourself that it’s some French dessert you never heard of, then you can enjoy it.”
    A laugh dripfaucets out of me. “You’re funny.”
    â€œMy parents say it’s all in your perception of a thing. If I don’t perceive it as cake, it’s good. If I perceive you as a new acquaintance, and not a mother, then I can be friendly and suspicious of you at the same time. Which is appropriate.”
    I reach out to touch her arm. “Clearly, you are very smart. You’re already better set for the world than I ever was.” I don’t say: this is exactly what I wanted to know.
    Amber considers this. “But that doesn’t for sure make me a good person. The trick is to be both smart and kind.” She digs out a piece of cake from her tooth with her tongue. “Let’s sit at the table.”
    We sit, and I trace the pattern of the bright tablecloth with my finger. A zigzag of red, a line of blue. “I don’t know where you got your brains from. Not Simon. Not me.”
    â€œMy mom has always said you were smart. She says you were always inventing words and also coming up with theories on life, that you liked to look at big brushstrokes. Those are her words. She said that you couldn’t ever be shallow, but you wanted to be. You could see big-picture stuff. You could be fierce. That’s a simple fact. You just