Read Online Was by Geoff Ryman - Free Book Online Page A

started playing with her daughter’s hair, rubbing it between her fingers. “You’re as dusty as a welcome mat,” she said, with a sudden wrench of emotion. “Honestly, this place! You need a brush just to walk down the street.”
    Then she kissed her daughter, hard, on the cheek, and stayed there, on her knees for a full moment. Then she pulled back. She was trying to be cheerful, but Frances could see that she wasn’t. “How about a bath?”
    “Will it be cold?” Frances asked.
    “Yes, Baby, nice and cold,” said her mother, and stood up.
    Frances skipped toward the bathroom. The bathtub was already full, and Frances held her arms over her head, dancing to have the dusty little dress pulled off. There were two kinds of clothes: ordinary clothes, which usually had once been her sisters’, and show clothes. Show clothes were nicer, but scratched more and were specially made.
    The gray little dress was hoisted off. “Janie and Jinny start school soon,” said Frances, under its momentary shelter.
    “Yes, Baby. Seventh and Fifth grade, if you can credit it.” Mrs. Gumm shook her head as she folded the dress. Frances shook her head too, at the unattainable heights of seventh grade.
    “How long before I’m in the seventh grade?” she asked. It was the summit of her ambition.
    “Oh, years and years yet,” said Mrs. Gumm, leaning over and testing the bathwater with her plump hands.
    “How old will I be then?”
    “Oh, about thirteen.”
    “And will I go to school just like Janie?”
    “Maybe,” said Mrs. Gumm.
    “Daddy says you’ve got some other plans for me.”
    “Did he?” said Mrs. Gumm briskly and looked at her daughter.
    “Yes,” said Frances, pleased, because the plans meant that she was someone special. She tried to hug her mother again, but her mother swept her up and put her in the cool water.
    “Oooooooo!” said Frances, squirming with the shock and with delight.
    “Don’t splash, Baby.”
    “It’s nice and cool.” Frances slid down under the water. She liked to hold her breath underwater. She felt the edge of the water close in over her bobbed and dusty hair. Her mother lifted her back up.
    “Are you going to wash my hair?”
    “Yes, honey.”
    “With ‘poo?” asked Frances and giggled because it sounded rude.
    “Yes,” said her mother. “See?” Her mother held up a bottle of baby shampoo. She poured shampoo onto her hands. “Now turn around. Close your eyes.”
    Frances loved having her head rubbed and she loved the smell of the shampoo and the feel of her mother’s hands working it up into a lather.
    “Did your father say what the plans were?” her mother asked.
    “No. Are you gonna tell me?” Frances asked.
    “Well. You won’t be starting school for a while yet. So I thought we could drive you into Los Angeles from time to time for special lessons.”
    “Singing and dancing?” asked Frances, her eyes screwed shut. She kicked her legs to show that she was pleased.
    She had done the right thing. Her mother laughed. “Singing, dancing, anything you like, Baby.” Rubbing the lather and the hair together.
    “Is that why you were in Los Angeles today?” Frances asked.
    The hands stopped.
    “Yes,” said her mother, not sounding pleased any longer.
    “Oh, boy. That’s going to be fun,” said Frances, to make her happy again. But her mother said nothing else. They had lived in Los Angeles for a while. Frances remembered it, as if in a dream, a little low brown house with red tiles on top. “It’s Spanish,” her father had said, trying to make them happy. But Mama hadn’t liked it. Maybe her mama didn’t like Los Angeles.
    The hands began to work again. Afterward there would be the big woolly towel and running cool and naked into the bedroom to dress.
    Downstairs the piano began to play, and her sisters to sing. Eyes shut, lather slipping down her face, Frances began to breathe out the words with them.

    You didn’t eat in show clothes, of course. You got