
##1008654 WHEN KIRSTEN AND LAUREL ARE SWEPT AWAY ON A TROPICAL VACATION . IT 'S TOTAL PARADISE-UNTIL THEY FALL FOR THE SAME GUY . WILL ONE CUTE BOY COME BETWEEN TWO BEST FRIENDS ? <p> On the plane ride to St. Thomas , I make two New Year 's resolutions . My first is to get a good tan . That is n't an easy endeavor since I 'm a strawberry blonde with pasty skin , so I always blotch and burn and look like I 've been scrubbing my face with steel wool . But for once in my life I 'd like to be the girl who returns to school after winter break with a caf&eacute; latt&eacute; complexion , wearing a white scoop-necked sweater to flaunt my tan . <p> I pump up the volume on my iPod and glance over at my best friend Laurel . She 's devouring honey-roasted peanuts as she flips through a magazine . <p> My second New Year 's resolution is even harder . In the next 12 months , I want to kiss a cute guy . A really cute @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ care about chemistry or conversation or even if he has an inflated ego . I just want my lips on his lips for long enough to qualify as an official kiss . <p> If anyone heard that back home in Buffalo , they 'd laugh themselves all the way up to the North Pole . " Kirsten Robbins ? " they 'd guffaw . " Where is she going to meet a hunk ? At a mathletes match ? At a science fair ? " OK , so maybe they would n't be that harsh , but it 's not like Laurel and I hang with the hotties . We 're honor-society girls , girls who organize car washes to benefit the swim team , girls who win " Most Likely to Be an Investment Banker . " Neither Laurel nor I have ever been kissed , but I just feel like if you 're going to start somewhere , why not try for the best ? Laurel is always saying I 'm hyper goal-oriented . Perfect for a future on Wall Street . <p> Laurel catches me looking at her @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ she asks , tossing the final peanut in her mouth . I 'm constantly reminding her that my name is Kirsten , but she 's called me Kiki since we were 6 , so it 's a hard habit to break . <p> " Not much , " I say , turning down my music . " Got a New Year 's resolution ? " <p> Laurel laughs . " I 'm just hoping I can get through this week without popping out of my bikini . That 'll make me happy for the entire year . " <p> " You 're going to look amazing . " <p> " Amazingly like a beached whale . " <p> Laurel has a remarkable ability to poke fun at whatever she 's insecure about . Laurel is n't a whale , but she 's definitely curvy , especially in the chest area . We spent the past three weekends at the mall , in pursuit of perfect bathing suits . Laurel 's swimsuit has serious underwire action and enough fabric on the bottom to ensure that she wo n't have a permanent wedgie @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ with my hair and moderately disguises the fact that , although I 'm 15 , I 've barely filled out . <p> I could n't believe it when my parents told me we were spending winter break on a Caribbean island . We usually visit my aunt in Missouri , where we eat Cheez Whiz , rent Adam Sandler movies , and my cousins call me " Sunken Treasure " for six straight days . <p> I could n't believe it even more when my parents told me I could bring Laurel . I 'm an only child , so I guess it 's for their benefit , too . Like they can play tennis or go out for a romantic dinner without feeling guilty about leaving me alone . They reserved two rooms at a place called the Frenchmen 's Reef Hotel . <p> I press my nose against the window and stare down at the white-capped ocean . The pilot announces that if we crane our heads we 'll see St. Thomas . Laurel squeals as she leans across me to gape out the window . I stare at @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ feels like a dream . I 'd pinch myself except I 'm so fair that I 'd bruise . A big , fat welt wo n't exactly help me achieve my New Year 's resolutions . <p> Our room overlooks the harbor , which is turquoise blue and dotted with massive cruise ships . In Buffalo , my bedroom window faces a neighbor 's rickety tool shed , which is buried in a snowdrift and dotted with dog poop . <p> When I commented on that to Laurel , all she responded was , " ' Nuff said . " <p> The air is warm and moist and sweet with flowers . <p> We wake up every morning and eat mangoes , papayas and cinnamon Danishes . My parents play tennis while Laurel and I stroll along the hotel 's beach . For the first few days , I wore hardcore sunblock . I got a decent base tan without turning into a blistery tomato . Now I 've downshifted to SPF 15 , so I 'm actually getting some real color . Laurel has promised to lend me her favorite @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Her skin is several shades darker than mine , so she 's not that obsessed with the " ha-ha , I went to the Caribbean during winter break " tan . <p> Midday , we meet up with my parents and go on excursions to pirate 's towers and coral reefs and whatever else they read about in the guide books . <p> Every afternoon , we lie on thick white towels near the pool , doze in and out of consciousness , dip in and out of the cool water , and do some serious male-watching . There are hoards of cute guys at Frenchmen 's Reef , but most of them are older and either have girlfriends or are ogling the college girls staying here . <p> Except for Hubba Hubba Boy . <p> Laurel spotted him first . She had gone inside to get us bottles of Gatorade . I was dipping my toes into the pool and trying to determine whether I was sufficiently bronzed or should quit the SPF and let the sun shine in . That 's when I saw Laurel jogging toward me , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ 've seen him , Kiki ! " she squealed . <p> I cracked open my Gatorade and took a long swig . " Who 'd you see ? " <p> " The cutest boy in the universe . Boy of our dreams . Carrying his suitcase to the elevator . No girlfriend in sight . Hubba hubba , is he hot ! " <p> Later , as we were eating dinner with my mom and dad in the hotel 's restaurant , Laurel dug her fingernails into my thigh . Hard ! <p> " Hubba hubba , " she mouthed . <p> " Where ? " I mouthed back . <p> She gestured with her chin to a nearby table where a guy was breaking bread with some parent-looking types . <p> Hubba hubba is right ! He was around our age , maybe a few years older . He had strong arms and broad shoulders . His legs were toasty brown and hairy , but not too hairy . His calf muscles bulged . His spiky brown hair was perfectly tousled in the front . I could only see his @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ I could tell he was the whole package . A perfect 10 . <p> If I were n't in public and my parents were n't a few feet away , I would have drooled Niagara Falls all over my mixed green salad . <p> We named him Hubba Hubba Boy . We started spotting him all over the hotel . He was always alone -- playing a video game in the arcade , diving into the pool , sleeping in a lounge chair on the beach . Even though we never talked to him , Hubba Hubba Boy became our favorite topic of conversation . <p> " If you were stranded on a desert island , " Laurel said one evening as we were gazing at the lights reflecting on the harbor , " and could pick one person to have with you , who would it be ? " <p> " No offense , but I 'd choose Hubba Hubba Boy , " I said . " You could rescue us in the lifeboat . " <p> Laurel laughed . " No offense , but I 'd probably put you @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ with Hubba Hubba Boy ! " <p> On our second to last day , we visited a spectacularly long beach called Magen 's Bay . Laurel and I were floating atop inflatable rafts . The water was so calm we were barely moving . <p> " When I marry Hubba Hubba Boy , " Laurel said , " we 'll live in Miami , drive matching red convertibles , and have three children named Hub , Hubbie and H.H. You can be our nanny . " <p> I laughed . I could feel the sun warming my eyelids . " When I marry Hubba Hubba Boy , we 're going to own a penthouse apartment in Manhattan , work on Wall Street and have a limo take us to dinner every night . We 'll hire you to be our chauffeur . " <p> " That 's my baby stockbroker ! " Laurel sang , rolling off her raft and splashing into the salty water . <p> That night , while Laurel was brushing her teeth , I stared out our window at the cruise ships docked in the harbor . @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on a boat , sitting on the deck , pointing out stars . It felt so real I could almost taste the Big Dipper . <p> When Laurel emerged from the bathroom , gargling with mouthwash , I did n't share that fantasy with her . Only two people can go on a honeymoon . <p> It 's New Year 's Eve day . We 're flying home tomorrow , unless we can convince my parents to quit their jobs , yank us from 10th grade and establish a permanent residence in the Caribbean . <p> We 're back at Magen 's Bay . It 's on the other side of the island from our hotel , but it 's worth the drive . My parents are sipping pi&ntilde;a coladas at the bar . Laurel and I are walking down the beach . I 've got my tankini on . Laurel is wearing a long T-shirt over her bathing suit . <p> I 'm looking out at the water , figuring out what jeans I 'll wear on the first day back at school , when Laurel gasps . <p> Suddenly @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ . <p> " You 're staying at Frenchmen 's Reef , are n't you ? " he asks . <p> He 's grinning . He 's staring down at me . I 'm staring back at him . I ca n't speak . I ca n't blink . <p> " Yeah , " says Laurel . " But we 're going home tomorrow . " <p> " Where 's home ? " he asks . He 's still looking at me . <p> " Buffalo , " Laurel says . " What about you , where are you from ? " <p> He glances quickly at Laurel . " I 'm from North Carolina . " <p> " I 'm Laurel . This is Kiki . " <p> I feel my cheeks flushing . Kiki ! Kiki is a name for a puppy or a baby blanket , not a hot Caribbean goddess . <p> Hubba Hubba Boy grins wider . " Does she talk ? " <p> " Sorry , " Laurel says , " she 's a little weird sometimes . " <p> Weird ? I ca n't believe @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ her . <p> Hubba Hubba Boy laughs . " Well , nice to meet you . " He starts down the sandy slope to the water , but then pauses and turns around . " Maybe I 'll see you in the ballroom tonight . A lot of people are going there for New Year 's Eve . " <p> " Cool , " Laurel says . <p> Laurel and I continue along the beach . I 'm about to chew her out when I glance sideways . She has a funny look on her face , something I 've never seen before . I decide to keep my mouth shut . <p> Laurel and I do n't mention Hubba Hubba Boy for the rest of the afternoon . <p> As we 're getting ready for the evening , I brush some mascara against my eyelashes and slide on some lip gloss . <p> " You look great , " Laurel says , flopping onto the bed . " And I 'm just one big whale who ca n't fit into her bikini . " <p> " No , you 're @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ at her . <p> But I 'm not thinking about Laurel now . I 'm thinking about how Hubba Hubba Boy does n't know I 'm the No. 1 scorer on the mathletes team or that my science fair project on acid rain won the grand prize last year . <p> Hubba Hubba Boy is already in the ballroom when we arrive . He waves and motions for us to join him on the dance floor . Laurel sighs heavily . I toss my hair flirtatiously over my shoulder . The sun has streaked the front , so it looks more blond and less strawberry . <p> The three of us dance for five songs . Laurel is frowning as she shifts from side to side . I am busy concentrating on the spot where Hubba Hubba Boy has knocked his hip against mine six -- count ' em , six ! -- times . I have n't seen his hip knock against Laurel 's even once . <p> Suddenly , Hubba Hubba Boy leans down and says to me , " Want to walk over to the beach , just @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and ticklish against my ear . My stomach quivers . <p> I lean toward Laurel and whisper , " He asked if I want to walk to the beach . Is that OK ? " <p> Laurel winces a little . " But it 's almost New Year 's .... " <p> I ricochet my eyes between her and Hubba Hubba Boy . Tonight , there 's a seriously cute boy who might possibly want to kiss me . Tomorrow , we 're shuffling back to Buffalo , where it could be years before I 'm pursued by another hubbalicious guy . <p> " I 'll only be gone for a few minutes , " I say to Laurel . " I 'll be back before the clock strikes -- " <p> " Do whatever you want , " Laurel says , interrupting me . " Do n't mind me . I really do n't care . " <p> Laurel shrugs dismissively and exits the ballroom . I can see that she 's heading in the direction of the elevators . I glance at Hubba Hubba Boy . <p> " Still @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ I guess so . " <p> Hubba Hubba Boy takes my hand as we go through the lobby . He tells me that he plays soccer at his high school in North Carolina . I do n't think I 've ever even spoken with a soccer player , and now I 'm holding hands with one . <p> He asks if I play any sports . I decide not to tell him about mathletes . <p> He plucks a hibiscus flower from a bush and hands it to me . I tuck it into a strap of my dress . <p> There are several people on the beach , leaning against palm trees , sitting on the sand , wading in the ocean . <p> We 're partway down the beach when Hubba Hubba Boy turns and faces me . <p> " Ten minutes ' til the New Year ! " someone shouts from inside the hotel . <p> Hubba Hubba Boy tilts his head to the side . Just as he raises his hands to my cheeks , I think of Laurel . I remember how upset she looked leaving @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ want to do the New Year 's resolution thing tonight , how can I when my best friend feels so bad ? And , hey , maybe there will be more cute boys in my future , but there 's only one Laurel . <p> I take a step backward . <p> " Everything OK ? " he asks . <p> " I have to find Laurel , " I mumble . " I 'm sorry . Thanks for the flower . " <p> I book through the lobby . People in the ballroom are pouring glasses of champagne . I forgo the elevator and run up two flights of stairs to our room . <p> I 'm huffing by the time I open the door . Laurel is sitting on the bed , her back to me . She quickly wipes her eyes and tosses a tissue on the floor . <p> " I 'm so sorry , " I say , sitting next to her . " I should n't have -- " <p> Laurel cuts me off . " No , that 's OK . I would have @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ . " <p> Our window is open . I hear people counting down from 10 to one . <p> " Kirsten ? " <p> " Yeah ? " <p> " I 'm sorry I called you weird before . " Laurel pauses . " I was just ... I could tell right away that he was checking you out , and it bugged me . I started worrying that this is how it 's going to be from here on out with you and me . " <p> " No way , " I say , pulling the flower from my dress strap . " You know that you 're the most important thing to me . " <p> We can hear people singing " Auld Lang Syne " outside . <p> " Happy New Year , Kirsten . " <p> " Happy New Year . " I reach over and hug my best friend . " Laurel ? " <p> " Yeah ? " <p> " You can always call me Kiki . " <p> " Good . " After a moment , Laurel grins and says , " So @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ my head . " I almost kissed him , but I bolted . " <p> Laurel squeezes my hand . " What are you waiting for ? Go get that kiss ! Just promise to give me the full report later . " <p> I stare out into the harbor . The cruise ships are gone , probably at sea for the evening . I twirl the hibiscus stem in my fingers . Maybe I 'll go find Hubba Hubba Boy . Maybe I wo n't . I do n't know . I have 12 months , after all . <p> Illustration ( Two friends on the beach ) <p> 
##1008655 We were a family of three women and a child , and only one job between us . So the holidays were coming a little late to our house .. and one essential ingredient might not be coming at all . By Laura Parker Castoro <p> It was a few days before Christmas , 1934 , and the difference between the haves and the have-nots along Terrell Avenue was never more pronounced . Passengers on the Lakeview streetcar took notice as they peered between the white-limbed sycamores that lined the avenue , home to the most prominent Negro families in Fort Worth , Texas . - Dr. Borders 's brick home boasted real evergreen wreaths with big red satin bows in every front window . Nearby stood the two-story colonial home of the millionaire banker Mr. William McDonald . That house , a bright , bold yellow with white columns , was the pride of the neighborhood . The McDonald Christmas tree , brilliant with tiny electric lights and dozens of ornaments , was so tall and wide , only part of it could be seen through the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ McDonald and his Fraternal Bank . It was the only bank in the city that did n't shut its doors during the Crash of " 29 . Now , five years later , he was still open for business over on Ninth and Jones , the Negro business section . Further along was Dr. Monkus 's home and the homes of schoolteachers and railroad porters and even a plumber . Every one of them had a Christmas tree . Then there were folks like my family . We rented the small , L-shaped frame house across from where Tennessee Street ran smack out of luck into Terrell Avenue . BROTHER MONKUS WAS WAITING FOR me as I came up the sidewalk from my best friend 's house . He was Dr. Monkus 's only son and " spoilt , " as Mama called it . Two years older than me , he was always finding ways to make my life a misery . All week he had been jeering at our decorations . " You ca n't have Christmas ! " he called as I passed . We had only one @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of cardboard and covered with crinkled green paper . It did n't look much like a real wreath , but it had an electric light candle in the center . Mama plugged it in from six P.M. until eight P.M. Never a minute before or after . She 'd say , " Waste not , want not . " " Are we gon na have Christmas ? " I demanded as I walked into the kitchen . Mama looked up from stirring a pot . " What 's wrong , Eva ? " " Brother Monkus says Santa Claus wo n't be coming to our house , because we do n't have a Christmas tree . " Mama firmed her mouth . " We always have a tree , just not before time . " Mama ruled our little roost . She was really my grandmother , but I called her Mama ever since I could say the word . No one ever corrected me . That 's because she was " Mama " to my mother and to Aunt Vivienne , and we all lived together . Even an eight-year-old @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ household . We were a family of three women and a child , and only one job among us . This year , Christmas was coming in drips and drabs behind the money . Brother Monkus had made me so mad , I almost did n't notice the aroma wrapping around my nose . " What 's that smell ? Chocolate ? " Mama rarely smiled . It was more like a lifting of seriousness . " You know better than to ask questions this time of year , " she said . " Yes , Mama . " But I had to smile . The Christmas baking had begun ! By tradition , three cakes were baked for Christmas : Mama 's Devil 's Food Chocolate , Aunt Vivienne 's White Cake with Caramel Icing , and my favorite , Mother 's Coconut Cake . Each had her own special recipe . No one else was allowed in the kitchen while the baking was being done . When there was extra money , there might also be white fruitcake and pound cake , even divinity . I did n't care @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ looked around but did n't see a coconut anywhere . " I 'm gon na ask Mother about something , " I said , backing out the door . " Your mother 's working . " I saw Mama untie her apron . " Go get my overcoat and gloves . You 're coming with me . " It was hard not to stop and open the door to Mother 's room as I went to fetch Mama 's coat . I could hear the treadle of the sewing machine rocking back and forth in rhythm to her foot and the jerky sound of the bobbin as the needle moved in and out of the cloth . Sometimes I was allowed to sit quietly and watch her sew . Mother was the creative one in the family . Everybody said so . Sewing was her specialty . She could make a dress out of anything , and give it style too . Once , she owned a dress shop downtown , but she lost it on account of the Depression . All the doctors " wives in town still came to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ this year there were fewer requests . Aunt Vivienne said folks were pinching pennies until President Lincoln squealed . Aunt Vivienne had the only regular job . She worked for Dr. Hedges and Dr. Hayward as their assistant . Mother , who was a little squeamish , said she did n't know how " Sister " could stand to watch people in pain . Aunt Vivienne answered , " No old blood or pus can scare me away from paying the rent . " Neither Mama nor Mother nor even Aunt Vivienne ever talked about being poor . Mama said it was n't dignified to call people who could pay for a roof over their heads " poor . " We were simply " economizing . " Mama had a lot of opinions about dignity . She told Aunt Vivienne it was n't dignified for a lady to drink beer and smoke cigarettes , two of Aunt Vivienne 's favorite pastimes . " Where are we going ? " I asked , after I brought Mama her coat . Mama bent down to wrap my muffler more securely around my neck @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ face smiled . If there was shopping to do , everything would be all right . As we walked down Terrell Avenue hand in hand , people would speak and nod to us . Mama nodded to only those she already knew . With a narrow frame and ramrodstraight posture , Mama had an expression as serious as Judgment . Mother said that was because Mama had had a hard life . Mama 's hair was pewter gray . Scraped back in a bun when she did her chores , it was taken down nightly for one hundred strokes . Then it hung below her hips and made her look just like the witch in my storybook of classic tales . When I was small , I would hide and watch until the brush strokes were done , and Mama put back her prized tortoiseshell pins to hold her hair in place . Mrs. Jackson once exclaimed that Mama must have a lot of Indian in her , on account of that long straight hair . Mama never answered what she called impudent questions . Mostly it was her way of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ gave people a start . After that look , most folks never bothered Mama twice . It was a long walk up to Rosedale Street on a gray winter day , but I did n't care one bit about the cold or the damp . As usual , we went first to the poultry market . Most times Mama picked out a fresh chicken . But this was Christmas . We were going to have turkey ! The poultry man tried to sell her on a particular bird , but Mama never let anyone make her choice for her . The cages were stacked one on top of another until they reached higher than a man 's head . Inside each was a whiteand-gray turkey squawking in complaint . Still holding my hand , Mama walked slowly up and down until she spied one she liked . Then she bent down and pushed two fingers through the wire mesh of the cage and squeezed the bird 's leg to see if it was as plump and tender as it looked . " You ca n't go by the plumage , " @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that tells the story . " When she found the right one , a tiny nod of satisfaction was her only comment . The poultry man put a tag on the turkey 's leg and gave Mama a claim ticket so we could pick it up later . A &P; was next . From a few days before Thanksgiving straight through Christmas , grocers stocked things seldom seen any other time of year : figs and dates , persimmons and pomegranates , filberts and walnuts , candied cherries and pineapple rings . Fresh oranges not seen since summer reappeared . And , once a year , there were coconuts . I walked impatiently beside Mama as she filled her basket with sugar and butter and cornmeal and then , in the vegetable aisle , big white onions that were flattish rather than round . Mama informed me that the flattish ones were sweeter . Finally , Mama turned to me and said , " You better go get a coconut . " " Yes , Mama ! " Coconuts fascinated me . It seemed impossible that what looked like an ugly @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ so white and crunchy sweet inside its hairy brown shell . I reached the coconut crate , but all I could see there was empty space . My stomach made a fist . Then I spied it , half covered by straw : the very last coconut . I was concentrating on it so hard that I did n't see the hand reaching past my head until it snatched up the coconut . " Hey ! " I looked up . Mrs. Margery Holmes , the plumber 's wife , was towering over me , and she was n't smiling . " Eva ! " I knew by the tone that it was Mama who had come up behind me . I whipped around . " Mama , she took our coconut ! " Mrs. Holmes stiffened . " I 'm sorry , Mrs. Anderson , but I saw it first . " " That 's not true , Mama . It 's ours . " But Mama just stood there silent while Mrs. Holmes clutched that little brown coconut to her bosom like it was a baby 's head . @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ somewhere else , child . " " But where ? " I was wailing now . I never understood why an adult 's word was better than a child 's . " She stole it ! " Mama took me by the arm and marched up the aisle to the checkout counter . People were watching us . I could feel their eyes like ants running across my back . But Mama did n't seem to notice . She put her things on the counter . " Do you have more coconuts in back ? " she asked the cashier . " No , ma'am . This close to Christmas , all we got is out . " Mama made a little sound like a sigh and then watched as he weighed her purchases . I had n't really cried , but my eyes felt like I 'd rubbed them with sandpaper as we walked out of the A &P; Mama paused to speak to the young man who was selling Christmas trees nearby . " I 'll keep you a good one back , " I heard him say . @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ without Mother 's coconut cake-I could not catch my breath just thinking about it . In silence we walked over to the Piggly Wiggly , the other grocer in our neighborhood . Mama made me wait inside the doorway while she went to the produce section . " They are all out . " That 's all she said when she came back . " Times are different . We 'll have to make do , " Mama said to Mother in explanation when we got home , I squeezed my eyes shut until they stung , trying to keep back the tears , but they came anyway . Mother held me while I cried . AUNT VIVIENNE ALWAYS BROUGHT FUN into the house . Today she came off the streetcar with a big fat grin . She wore a black tam over her bobbed hair that curled around her ears and deep red lipstick that made her mouth look like a juicy plum . I could n't wait to be old enough to wear lipstick . She never wore her nurse 's uniform home . Always changed into street clothes @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ brown bag . She snapped her fingers and pointed at me , saying , " How 's tricks ? " Most days this made me smile . Today I blurted out , " There 's no more coconuts at the A &P"; Aunt Vivienne glanced at Mother . " Thought you bought one last week , Sister . " Mother looked even sadder . " I was waiting to get paid . " Aunt Vivienne 's mouth pruned up . " You 'd think doctors " wives could afford to pay their bills on time . They sure nag you about getting things made on time . " Mother folded her lips in until they almost disappeared . She did n't have Mama 's steely dignity or Aunt Vivienne 's sweet-pickle snap . Mostly she had the patience of a saint . " I bet I know where to find a coconut , " Aunt Vivienne said with a sudden grin . " Now , Sister- " Aunt Vivienne seemed not to hear . " It 's Christmas ! " she said . " I 'll make divinity , " Mother @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a single thought : It would n't be the same . ON CHRISTMAS EVE , AUNT Vivienne worked a half day . She came home after lunch . When she spied me sitting on the sofa alone , she smiled and said , " Go get your coat . " A little louder she said , " Sister , I 'm taking Eva shopping . Back in an hour . " I seldom rode the streetcar , and we always crossed the street to go downtown . Today Aunt Vivienne hurried me toward the uptown stop . At the corner of Fabon and Terrell , the streetcar deposited the last of its Negro passengers before turning to head up the hill . Only " Coloreds " in uniforms of servicemaids , cooks , gardeners , or the occasional chauffeur-were allowed to travel up that hill to Riverside . Mama had told me , Never ride past Fabon . As Aunt Vivienne paid our fare , the driver gave her a hard look . She just went on past him and deposited herself and me in seats in the back , behind @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ we jerked to a halt after making the turn onto Fabon . The conductor walked back to check his passengers . Aunt Vivienne did n't say a word , just let her coat fall open . She still had on her uniform ! He looked like he wanted to say something . But he did n't . As the streetcar began to chug up that shallow hill , I felt like we were the Lone Ranger and Tonto riding into enemy territory . What if we are caught , are caught , are caught , the streetcar wheels seemed to chatter on the tracks . Only Riverside did n't look like a hostile place . There were Christmas trees in the windows and wreaths on the doors , just like on our street . The houses were much the same , though I did n't see any as big as Mr. McDonald 's yellow colonial . By the time the streetcar stopped near the A &P,; I wondered why white folks made such a fuss over a neighborhood so much like ours . Aunt Vivienne marched me through the doors of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ had ever done . Before we got more than ten feet inside , a man with a big pink face and a white apron stretched across his enormous waist was looming over us . " What you want , gal ? " " I been sent for a coconut for Mrs. Bright 's ambrosia , " my aunt said , sounding impatient . " You got any coconuts , mister ? " " Sure do , " the man answered and pointed to the rear . With me right behind her , she walked straight through the store to the produce section and picked up a coconut . She held it to my ear and shook it . " Plenty of milk ? " I nodded , eyes wide at my aunt 's audacity . When she had paid for it and we were back on the streetcar , Aunt Vivienne winked at me . We were safely back in our living room when she burst into laughter . " Fooled them good ! But we got to keep the secret of what we 've done . Forever . " Mama @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the smells of Christmas dinner in the air . Mother said , " What have you done ? " Aunt Vivienne held out the coconut . " What needed doing . " Mama gave her the look . LATER THAT NIGHT I COULD HEAR THE three of them talking softly . I usually liked listening to their voices in the darkness . But tonight their murmuring brought me no comfort as I snuggled under the quilt . I knew they were having a Discussion . Suddenly I heard Mama 's voice rise . " No need to go where we are n't welcome ! " " Too proud ! " Aunt Vivienne snapped back . That scared me . They never quarreled . Then I heard the screen on the front door bang shut . I went to the window . The bright flare from a match lit up the porch . After a few seconds , only the reddish glow of a cigarette remained . Aunt Vivienne rationed her cigarettes . She smoked one after breakfast . One on her lunch break . And one after dinner . Or , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ For her to be smoking a fourth , she must have been upset . I SCRAMBLED BACK INTO BED AS Mother opened the bedroom door . She did n't say a word as she undressed . When she got under the covers , I rolled in close to her warm body . " Did we do wrong ? " " No . " Mother hugged me . " Mama 's just being stubborn , and Sister will provoke her . Mama 's right about one thing , though : A person who gives away her self-respect loses her most precious possession . " " How do you know when it 's lost ? " " Shame burns you right down to the soles of your feet . " I did n't feel any burning in my feet , not even a tingle . But I still had a worrisome feeling . " Are we going to have Christmas ? " " Of course . " Mother sat up . " But maybe Santa needs a little help . " I did n't ask what she meant as she got out of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ rustling sounds in the kitchen . I awoke early to put out my gifts . And there in the living room was a small tree lit with lights and tinsel and ornaments ! Soon we were all opening gifts . I had embroidered squares of linen from Mother 's trimmings box with pink rosettes and green French knots to make handkerchiefs for Mother , Aunt Vivienne , and Mama . Aunt Vivienne bought Mother a little silver locket and a new thimble . Mama got a pair of silk stockings and a new comb . Aunt Vivienne gave me a pair of bright red knit gloves to match the coat Mother made me with a velvet collar pieced together out of trimmings from Mrs. Hedges 's black velvet evening dress . Mama had made new clothes for my only doll , Peggy . Mother had fashioned a new lace collar for Mama 's best dress , and for Aunt Vivienne , a velvet tam and stole , which she wore to Christmas services . After church , the good white linen cloth was spread on the dining table . In the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ . We ate a delicious turkey dinner . Then it was time for dessert . First Mama sliced her Devil 's Food Chocolate Cake . I slid my plate forward for a piece . Then Aunt Vivienne made thin slices of her caramel cake , and I took a piece of it too . Finally , Mother came out of the kitchen bearing a three-layer cake with boiled icing . " Coconut cake ! " I cried . It was a sight as wonderful and rare as a snowball in Texas . Then I remembered and sneaked a peak at Mama . She just stared at it , her eyes hard and mouth tight . Mother put her cake on the table next to the others and said in a clear voice , " Christmas is about love . Sister , Mama , Eva , this is my gift of love to you . " Mama did n't say anything to that , but I saw the look in her eyes soften as she turned her gaze on me . " Next year we 'll buy that coconut early , " @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ . " Save everybody 's dignity . " Sidebar Coconut White Layer Cake This recipe was given to me by my mother , who got it from my grandmother . -L.P.C. -LPC . Sidebar PREP 55 minutes plus cooling BAKE about 25 minutes MAKES 16 servings Sidebar CAKE 3 cups sifted cake flour 1 tablespoon baking powder 3/4 teaspoon salt 2 cups sugar 2/3 cup vegetable shortening 5 large eggs 1 teaspoon vanilla extract 1 1/4 cups whole milk 7-MINUTE FROSTING 2 large egg whites 1 cup sugar 1 teaspoon light corn syrup 1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar 2 cups flaked sweetened coconut or 1 fresh coconut , peeled and grated Sidebar 1 . Prepare Cake : Preheat oven to 350 deg F Grease three 9-inch round cake pans . Onto waxed paper , sift flour , baking powder , and salt 3 times . 2 . In large bowl , with mixer at medium speed , beat sugar and shortening 3 minutes or until light and fluffy . Add eggs , 1 at a time , beating well after each addition . Beat in vanilla . Reduce speed to low @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ending with flour mixture . Beat just until smooth , occasionally scraping bowl with rubber spatula. 3 . Spoon batter into prepared pans . Stagger cake pans on 2 oven racks , placing 2 on upper rack and 1 on lower rack , so that pans are not directly Sidebar above one another . Bake 25 to 30 minutes or until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean . Cool layers in pans on wire racks 10 minutes . Run small knife around sides of pans to loosen layers . Invert layers onto racks to cool completely . 4 . While layers cool , prepare 7-Minute Frosting : In top of double boiler-or in medium stainless steel bowl set over 3- to 4-quart saucepan-over 1 inch simmering water ( double-boiler top or bowl should be about 2 inches from water ) , with hand-held mixer at high speed , beat egg whites , sugar , corn syrup , cream of tartar , and 1/4 cup water until soft peaks form and temperature reaches 160 deg F on candy thermometer , about 7 minutes . 5 . Remove double-boiler top from bottom @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ or until stiff peaks form . Makes about 3 cups . 6 . Place 1 layer , rounded side down , on cake plate ; spread with 1/2 cup frosting . Top with another layer and spread with another 1/2 cup frosting . Top with remaining layer . Frost side and top of cake with remaining frosting . Sprinkle cake top with some coconut . With hand , gently press remaining coconut into frosting on side of cake so it adheres . Sidebar * Each serving : About 320 calories , 5 g protein , 45 g carbohydrate , 14 g total fat ( 6 g saturated ) , 1 g fiber , 69 mg cholesterol , 215 mg sodium . Author Affiliation Laura Parker Castoro 's most recent book is Crossing the Line ( Berkley ) . She has published 32 romance novels under the name Laura Parker . <p> 
##1008764 Late night in early winter . The last hour of the long drive home . I tend to the thermostat , keeping the car warm enough for my sleeping family , but not so warm that my focus turns dull . Beyond the chilled glass to my left , green dashboard lights angle up toward the stars . <p> Distance defines our relations . My wife 's parents live five hundred miles away , what we have come to think of as a day 's drive . <p> When we arrive , she will hoist our son high against her chest and take him , murmuring his dreams , into the house . I will carry our long-legged daughter from our car to her room , where I will lay her gently on the bed we have made for her . <p> I remember being proud that I had n't fallen asleep . <p> " You go ahead and rest , ' my father told me . " I 'll let you know when we get there . " <p> But I had promised my mother I would @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ hugged my pillow , to keep warm . The truck 's heater was n't working . A good thing , according to my father ; it would have only made us drowsy . This was November , sometime between my birthday-which we had celebrated in an empty house , amid packed boxes-and Thanksgiving . Under my father 's influence , the past Christmas Eve , I had seen a reindeer 's red nose from my bedroom window ; with the same power of persuasion , he had convinced me , at least , that our move from Maryland to North Carolina-a place so far off it might as well have been wholly imaginary-was a great adventure . <p> When we finally left the highway , he said , " Home at last . " There at our exit were three big hotels and a restaurant called the Kountry Kitchen and another called Noah 's and a go-cart track . My attention lingered on the go-cart track , which was closed . It was after midnight , the latest I had ever been out in my life . <p> My father stopped @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ at a piece of paper he had drawn from his shirt pocket . We turned left , and then right , and then there were no more hotels , no more restaurants-nothing but a curving road . The farther we went down that road , the more I worried about what my mother would think . She had made no secret of her opposition to the move ; rather , she had expressed this so strongly that I harbored the unspoken fear that she might not follow us . She was very much in my mind as we passed a small house with a chain-link fence strung with Christmas lights that somehow looked as if they had n't been taken down the winter before , and a collapsing larger house , with covered porches on three sides , and beside it a field populated by broken school buses and eyeless shells of trucks . ( To be honest : I 'm not sure how many of those things I took in that first night ; but they were there the next morning , when the overall impression of neglect and decay @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ just started to think that if we went far enough , we 'd get away from this kind of place , we 'd reach another road with bright lights and hotels and restaurants , when my father slowed down , then stopped , then backed up . <p> " Here we are , " he said . " Camelot . " He had told me his version of the legend of King Arthur on the ride . We had sung songs , and told riddles , and played games using the letters on billboards . My father could always be depended on to think of something interesting to do . On the edge of a field across from the entrance to the Natural Bridge , in Virginia ( which we did not see , as there was an admission charge ) , we ate sandwiches my mother had packed , and played a game he invented using two sticks and a crab apple . Later , while we drove , my father wedged a paper cup between the dash and the windshield and had me take shots with a crumpled cigarette @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ were football fans , my father and I , but we would play any game that presented itself . <p> Rule number one , he liked to say : Keep your options open . My mother arrived two days later , in my father 's pickup truck . We had made a sign for the door-Welcome Home-but that did n't appear to register . Even before she went inside , I understood that the pizza we had watched the pizza man spin almost to the ceiling , the cupcakes for dessert , and the grocery-store flowers my father had arranged in a beer bottle on the tiny countertop would not be sufficient to create , for my mother , a mood of celebration . <p> The trailer park was not a park , as I had imagined , but a series of crude terraces cut into the side of a steep clay hill , with a gravel road up the middle and a security light at the top of a telephone pole . There were twelve trailers , six on each side , and the way they were placed on the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ could look down into someone else 's kitchen , living room , and bedroom . The most desirable spots were the two at the top , which were relatively private-though none of the trailers could have been more than twenty feet from its neighbor-and had the best view of the woods across the road . Our trailer was at the very bottom , which meant , my mother said as she stood in the doorway , not unbuttoning her coat , everyone could see in . A modest woman , she sewed our curtains closed . <p> I woke to a strange sound . Not a dog , not a cat ... There had been talk of bears , and I hoped to see one in exactly those circumstances : from under the covers , safe inside our trailer . When I heard the sound again , and understood what I heard , it became a glowing ember , a warm promise . <p> My parents , laughing . Not my father alone , which I was used to , or my mother 's polite acknowledgment of a joke , but @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ was followed by other sounds , and an exchange I either heard through the thin wall or imagined . The result of my father 's insistence , my mother 's reluctance , was my father rolling from the bed , then shuffling out to where I sensed I should pretend still to sleep . <p> Did she know what he meant to do ? I doubt it . My father believed in asking for forgiveness , not permission . <p> He slid one strong arm under my knees , another behind my shoulders , and lifted . I fought to suppress a smile of anticipation , expecting to be carried in to share with them the wonderful discovery they had made , the cause of their laughter . I felt my rear end sag , my father 's knee rise to prop me up . My feet , then my head , bumped against the wall of the trailer , and then the door was open , cool air reached under my blanket . In two long strides we were at the door of his truck , I heard the click @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ When my feet reached the far door , I understood this was n't the start of a late-night drive . I heard my father 's heavy step into the trailer , heard him return , and the passenger door opened once more . My head rose , then was lowered onto my pillow . Reaching under the blanket , he set in my hand the stuffed creature I slept with . <p> " Sweet dreams , " my father said , and shut the door . The first time I told this story , without a moment 's forethought , was ten years later . She had confided something about her own parents , and we were , after all , in the dark , in the back of her mother 's car . Her reaction surprised me , to the extent that I stored the memory in a room at the end of one of the long , turning hallways of the mind . <p> The moment we confine memories to words , images are obscured by the language , the understanding , we have now . To be as @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ I would write : <p> One-eyed kitten-white , stuffed , red stitches where a right eye would have been-on the open glove compartment door . ( My stage , where the kitten performed with a tire gauge and magnetic St. Christopher . ) <p> Dark shadows cast by the bright security light . <p> Some nights , loud adult voices from a trailer up the hill . Others , the long , low rumble of a freight train . <p> I tried to explain to that young woman , in her mother 's car , how it was that I did n't feel abandoned , or cast aside , but elated . My parents were happy ; I was playing my role , never opening my eyes when my father carried me out to the truck , or back to my room . But then I woke one dawn with the windows frosted over . The blanket had slipped , exposing my back to a chilled seatbelt buckle . <p> Huddled on the vinyl seat , wrapped as tight as I could get , I waited for my father to push @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of the numbness of my ears and nose . Unable to deny my need , I made a plan : open the door silently , take long , barefoot strides across the gravel , use the bathroom , and return . But the instant I entered the trailer my mother awoke , began shrieking accusations at my father . Bundling me close to her chest , she carried me to their warm bed . <p> She intended comfort , but I felt crushing disappointment . If only I had sneaked back in . If only I had held out a little longer , my father would have been spared my mother 's anger , my mother spared her shame . <p> I can only guess how much time passed . My parents returned to their familiar relationship : my father exuberant , loud ( " Let 's all go dancing " " Let 's go down to the field and set off some fireworks " ) ; my mother quieter , more steady . She mended our clothes , and fed us , and took me for long walks along the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ I could pet the horses and stare back at the newborn calves and take warm eggs from under his hens . She taught me songs like " Red Sails on the Sunset , " and " King of the Road . " Each time we went to the grocery store , she gave me a coin to use either on the noisy rides out front or on the clear-globed machines filled with worthless trinkets just inside the doors . My desire for those trinkets was as urgent as it was irrational ; I dreamed about the rides , the horse and ambulance and the blinking spaceship that rose , as one rode , until it angled toward the sky . Yet some days I dropped the coin into my pocket , remembering rule number one . <p> What I mean to say is , my mother was kind and generous and attentive . But my father shone with the brilliance of a sun . <p> He stocked vending machines with candy and crackers . It seemed to me the most marvelous job a father could have . Once we drove his @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ mother said ) floor of the panel truck , him telling stories about people he had met . My father knew everyone in the world , and introduced me to them , one by one . " I 've got the boss with me today , " he 'd tell his customers . <p> His plan was to own and manage a fleet of sandwich wagons . It may not sound like much of an ambition , but my father had the charm of a scene-stealing actor , and convinced people he was going places . My mother must have thought so , because she married him young , against her parents ' advice . She was independent , and serious , and had , I imagine , plans of her own . <p> One day , an envelope arrived which gave her so much pleasure she said we could do whatever I wanted-which was to make cheese sandwiches and have a picnic on the large flat rock in the middle of the river we sometimes walked to , which we did . The envelope , she confided , contained a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the sender to be used by my mother to buy a car . This gift was a great mystery to me . Adding to the intrigue was the fact that , while she had known the envelope was coming , my father did not . That night , the news of the check and its intended use was the cause of prolonged debate . My mother did not cry , or curse-I never heard her curse . Rather , she grew quietly , darkly resolved . <p> I was a beneficiary of her insistence . In her yellow car we drove to the local branch library , and to the enormous central library , where my mother looked up one thing or another while I sat in a corner , happily lost in picture books and early readers . I never thought to ask what she was looking for . We also drove to the grocery store , where the women at the bakery gave me a tea cookie whether we bought anything from them or not , and took long rides on the Blue Ridge Parkway , where we hunted @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a boulder and read while I tested the seaworthiness of leaves and sticks in a narrow stream . <p> She bought a magnet with my name on it , which she fixed to the dashboard directly ahead of the passenger seat . The letters were raised , in script , and as we drove I traced my name again and again . <p> Bedtime came , and I said I wanted to sleep in the truck . <p> I remember planning my announcement , and thinking the gesture heroic ; I remember its silent reception . <p> Finally , my mother asked me why . <p> Because it was fun to sleep in the truck . ( This was not entirely a lie . I had come to think of the vinyl bench seat , with its warm smell of my father , as more truly mine than any part of the trailer . ) <p> My mother suggested that sleeping in the truck was not a good idea . <p> I must have responded badly . My memory is of getting my way , and an extra blanket , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ its intended effect . <p> My mother was not an extravagant woman , but in the spring we washed her car every week . She would vacuum and clean the trailer , then together we would haul the vacuum cleaner and sponges and a bucket of hot , soapy water outside . I wore shorts . I had never owned a bathing suit , and my mother did not approve of children of any age " running around without a stitch . " Some days she wore her old housecleaning clothes , but other times she wore a one-piece bathing suit , an outfit that made her fair game for both of us . For me , it meant that she would n't be angry if I accidentally turned the hose in her direction . She would shriek , and grab the nozzle from my hand and aim it at me , and we would take turns exclaiming at the cold water and hosing the other down . For my father , the bathing suit seemed to guarantee that he would pick her up , and call her Daisy Mae in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ . It made her laugh , but my father 's arrival almost always meant an end to our fun . <p> I never wondered what the neighbors thought when they heard my father going out to his truck in the middle of the night . I do n't know that any of them ever saw me inside . <p> In my memory , during the months we lived there , it was nearly always night . Some nights he collected me in his arms hardly waiting for me to scoop up my blanket and pillow . Other nights he stood in the space between the open truck door and the cab , or better yet , held me aloft , and talked a beery cloud . One night he turned his back to the security light and the rental trailers on concrete blocks stacked on clay , and we stared up at a reddish dot in the night . " Mars , " he said . " You might live there one day . " For a moment we both imagined such a thing . At least , I did . @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ had always seemed like an observed heroic adventure , all rockets and thrusters and urgently shouted commands , that night I imagined life on Mars to be a quiet , solitary enterprise . <p> " Near the moon , " I said , silently equating moon with mother . <p> " That 's right , " he said . <p> Long after an introductory astronomy text set the record straight , the sense of the night that held sway over me was the one I gathered in my father 's arms . <p> The argument over my mother 's car may have seemed worse than it was , as I imagined myself in the middle of it . I do n't recall the expression on either of their faces , which suggests I was either standing outside , listening , or staring at the floor . She wanted to take the car to a service station ; my father wanted to do the work himself . It was a waste of money , he insisted . She claimed he would get distracted , or have to find a part at the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for weeks . My father 's tendency to stop short of finishing his projects was indisputable . <p> Nevertheless , he disputed it , said he 'd be damned if he 'd pay some high school dropout to do a half-assed job ( a remark meant to cut deep , as my mother had not graduated from high school ) . She said she 'd pay for it herself , and if he did n't want to follow her she 'd hitchhike home , she would n't have any trouble finding a man who would give her a ride , and something about that must have convinced my father that there was no stopping her , because he relented . <p> I rode with him , absorbed in a book from the library . I opened the crisp cover wide and put my nose close to the pages , inhaling the scents of ink and paper and the hands of boys before me . I turned the pages carefully , admiring the bold lettering of the title . I could n't have been more than a page into the story when @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of the truck . <p> The scene in front of me remains perfectly clear . On the left side of the intersection , headed right , a blue pickup . On the right , a man in a straw hat getting out of a white sedan . And in the middle of the intersection , my mother 's car , with a horrible impression the width of the pickup truck 's bumper running from just ahead of the driver 's door to just behind it . Even before my father roared I saw , at the top of the door panel , a bright streak of red on the yellow paint . <p> Any number of people said it was a good thing I had gone in the truck . But the thought that pulsed through me for days , years , was that I should have been with my mother . It would have been such a small favor , to have ridden beside her . <p> In my dreams , she held out her hand . Night after night , I told her , " I 'm right here @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ much longer . You can imagine the conversations with relatives , my father 's grief We insisted on going it alone , and lasted perhaps a month . There was an excruciating drive back to Maryland , where we said what we both claimed , maybe even believed , were temporary goodbyes . Over the next few years there were regular visits , a much-anticipated trip to the beach . <p> I should admit here that I came to resent some of my father 's decisions , and let him know it . Every so often he would burst onto the scene , trying in a weekend to make up for months without a phone call . There was another wife , and a child . Then a third wife , and two children . Those choices soured some people 's impression of him . <p> I do n't believe my father is a bad or shallow man . He was young , and heartbroken , and committed to the belief that life should be lived as if every day were a great adventure . That attitude can be terribly appealing @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ two occasions even expressed , that my " new family " was the preferable one : a settled , loving couple , with energetic and companionable children . My mother 's brother , an amateur historian , encouraged intellectual curiosity in whatever form it took , bookish or less orthodox . My aunt is an industrious woman who believes boys should be able to replace a button and cook a decent meal , and girls had better be prepared to change a tire . The home they made was demanding , in the best sense , and supportive , and I mean for nothing I write here to imply a word of criticism of them , or anything but the deepest gratitude for all they have done for me . <p> And yet , inevitably , I have wondered what would have become of me if that other life , the one three of us began , had been allowed to continue . There might very well have been a different painful separation , other difficult times . I might have found my way into that same second household , under @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ streak of romanticism when I imagine that my mother and father might have clung together , discovering solutions to their apparently contradictory desires and sacrifices , and that I might have completed my childhood in the family that made me , gone on to live the life I was meant to live . <p> For a long time I believed that if my mother 's accident had been avoided , if my foundation had been more solid , everything that followed would have felt more certain . But every foundation is , eventually , shaken . My grandparents are gone now . As is my uncle . More and more , I find my nights , and my days , illuminated by the light of dying stars . <p> Soon our daughter will be too big for me to carry . <p> Imagination , abhorring a vacuum , insists on filling gaps ; assumptions made years later insinuate themselves as fact . If these memories I have tried so carefully to record are not , strictly , true , what is this that I 've made ? <p> O my mother @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to bed , and then we tell ourselves the stories that will carry us to sleep . <p> Author Affiliation 
##1008767 Her eye followed the slim border of scrolled wood running the length of the bar 's chalet roof , then tracked down to the window which afforded a view of rows and rows of parked cars dull in the evening sun , and finally reversed direction across bare-topped surface to her raised forearm and bent wrist , resembling a still black swan in the round pond of table . There on her finger was the true point of attraction : a thick platinum ring with a diamond the size of her knuckle . She let her hand drop gavellike to the surface with a thud and eased back in her seat . Nursed a strawberry daiquiri and worried time like a bone . She 'd asked Les to meet her here , The Happy Medium , a bar down the street from the bank where she worked and where she 'd come every evening for the past week , taking her usual seat at the circular booth , away from the light , the door , and the draft . Faces waved with festive expressions . Voices ripped @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ or sentence would jet up above the general buzz , human insect noise . Everything was turning around inside her . Les had been making too many business trips of late , and even when he was with her , he seemed far away . Some difference in the way he held her , a softening of muscles and affection , his hands seemingly too awkward for her body . These past weeks she 'd gotten physically sick , sick with worry-headaches , chills , tics , and vomiting . She was convinced that someone was fishing in her private pond . <p> Hi , baby . <p> She had not seen him enter . He was forty minutes late . She looked up from her drink and saw him smiling that smile , like he 'd won a contest , smiling so that his long thin sharp lips caught the dim light and split clean through her anger . <p> Hi , she said . <p> Like a waiter awaiting a deserved tip , he stood tall and unmoving before her booth , giving her time to notice him , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ his forearm . Honeybrown skin . A five-inch block of hair rising from the top of his head , like some object he was balancing there to improve his posture . He leaned forward-might the block of hair topple to the floor ? -kissed her on the cheek-a small burst of warmth from his lips-then moved with iron confidence to take his seat . Baby , what 's new ? His gray eyes saw without light . <p> Her hands closed around her glass . Bitch , she said . <p> He went stiff as a new deck of cards , the word raw and red on the parched linen of his shirt . <p> What ? <p> Just calling a spade a spade . <p> He sat there with his mouth open , his tongue rolling . Baby , I 'm sorry I 'm late , but <p> Are you squeezing somebody 's lemon ? <p> He laughed a low-breath laugh . What ? <p> Just answer the question . <p> The words seemed to fall heavy upon him . His shoulders dropped . He leaned forward in his seat @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ held her breath , waiting . She knew exactly what he would say . Baby , you know you 're the one for me . He looked right at her with his gray eyes . The luck of my life . <p> The old feelings came back for a moment , like a quick glimpse of light behind a flapping curtain . She wanted to forgive him . <p> Why , we 're going to start a family . <p> She sipped her drink to renew her strength , then pinched and held the wings of her nose . When Les did n't react , she pulled out her black lace handkerchief and put it over her nose and mouth . <p> What 's wrong ? <p> Shit 's running out your mouth . <p> His eyes went red . Remember , baby . You 're the queen , but I 'm the goddamn king . <p> Once had a dog named King . <p> His eyes darted out of control . Fuck <p> She slapped him two times , palm and backhand , a doubleedged sword . Imprinted violence on @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ . The red mark instantly started to swell and lightened in color as it expanded . She slapped the diamond ring down on the table . Here . Squeeze this around your dick . <p> They 'd met a year earlier at the bank where she worked as a clerk . He had been shy and tentative at first , his handshake cool and damp . Then he started coming to her station every day with his smile , candy , cards , flowers , and compliments . She agreed to dine with him one afternoon . Found herself so deeply enjoying his company that she forgot to peruse the menu before the waiter arrived at their table with a bottle of wine , an Australian vintage of Less choosing . She asked him any question she so desired , and he answered with open pleasure , his laugh close and comfortable . She had to admit , he was quite a talker , and she found herself seizing upon the beauty of every phrase . If you would go high , use your own legs . Hope alone acquaints us @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ had grown comfortable enough to allow him to kiss her , a quick bird peck on the cheek . That first kiss buttered her up for more , so she took the further step of allowing him to visit her on Sunday mornings at her home , where he would take his polite place on the couch beside her and join her in watching her favorite pay-per-view religious service on cable TV . Nowhere did her feelings for him tell so strongly as in this setting . Who would have thought this man , in his neatly cut suit , sturdy and plain in style ? <p> The night he proposed , six months into their dating , he took her to a restaurant with a four-story marble waterfall , a thin moving sheet of wet force that fell to a basin with colorful , darting fish . They sat knees touching at a small cloth-covered table in the dim light of a glass-encased candle . And they enjoyed the best dinner she could recall . <p> Then he spoke to her with the rich sweet taste of Shiraz on his @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the noise of rushing water . She could feel the strength of his love coursing through their knee contact . <p> I think it 's time . He held out the ring . I hope you want this as much as I do . He ran his tongue over his top lip , holding her gaze . Baby , let your love come through . We 'll have a big family . Googobs of kids . Heirs to our tea empire . Hell , we 'll be our own country . He was smiling hard , blinking moisture from his eyes . <p> A powerful current of feeling surged through her . She spoke , her voice escaping , struggling to get away to silence . <p> They spent the night in his gurgling Jacuzzi , her breasts floating on the water 's surface . <p> Nothing more to do with Les . Nothing more to do with Les . Nothing more to do with Les . She repeated the phrase over and over again to herself in the listening night . Forest gloom , country gloom , darkness which should @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ turned over stones in her path , might there have been light underneath ? <p> She walked slowly , night with the holding force of water . No amount of effort could move her faster , step after heavy step , sapping her strength . Ah , streetlamps up ahead . Clouds of insects performing in spotted glare . Perhaps it had rained . Fish-shaped leaves stuck to lampposts and gutters too deep to see into . Heat reshaped her . She would never give thought to Les again . <p> She existed , was given substance and form by noises patterned around her . A shape slipped out of a doorway quick as an angel . Joined a congregation of more shapes at the corner and led them like a herd of dirty sheep to the liquor store across the street . She sang the sight away . <p> Just a closer walk with thee <p> Just a closer walk with thee <p> She heard squabbling birds she could not see . She stepped past , dodged ponds of aging piss . The neighborhood was changing . She would have @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ red light , her legs limp with relief . Today was Friday . My weekend is fucked , she thought with an honest heart . Fucked . And what about our other plans : the Bahamas cruisedouble-decker cocktails , a buffet of horizons , saddleless horses , and tensionless sea-or the weekend getaway to Virginia Beach ? <p> Green signaled her forward , and she sang long , silent , and sweet about past wrongs . Men tried and abandoned . Men never tried . Men she would never try . She firmly believed that it took two slices of like-grained bread to make a good sandwich . Imagine combining a slice of white bread and a slice of wheat , or a square slice and a French tube , or a bagel half and a kaiser <p> A car zoomed by so fast the air smacked together after it . She tongued smoke from her lips . <p> She recalled standing with a crowd of women in a musicjammed club , watching the French Tickler work his glittery hips . Long stilt-like beams of light walked on , over , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ like a maze , so many twists and turns . Hours later , she saw him trying to avoid detection in the shadows outside the club . He was leaning against a parking meter but walked over without hesitation when her gaze caught his . I could n't help but notice you , he said . All those hundreds of women in the club , and there was your face , the calm in the storm . Please allow me , I 'm Horace . He held out his hand , and she shook it . And your name would be ? Well , Miss Sheila , I know this dime spot up the street where they throw down some serious grits and eggs . She rarely found herself dating men for looks alone , but he had been put together with care . Even in an old shirt-the tails hanging out-and faded jeans , his body gave off drawing force . And he stood high and tall , like a captain directing the world from the bow of his ship . She accepted his offer to breakfast , with doubts @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for less than a month . In that short span of time , he made her voracious with the need to discover . They bounced on her firm mattress trampoline-like , licked TV glow from their skin , left their deep forms in damp earth and soft stone , lovers tracking each other in the dark by the sounds they made . She burned with the need to tell him something wonderful , something he 'd never dreamed could happen . <p> Then one night , he spoke her name with smooth , young girl lips . He was sitting in his favorite chair-a caneback-completely nude , body slick and glistening from an olive oil lotioning , his legs spread wide like a scissors , his thick thighs partly obscured in the darkness . He flexed and unflexed his fingers to rid them of stiffness . Babygirl , he said , why do n't you dance for me ? <p> And you ai n't even tell me , Toosha said , barely audible , a bad connection , hum and hiss and other voices low in the background , a ghostly @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ <p> I did n't want to be hasty . I had to make sure that Les was n't like all the others . <p> When can I meet him ? <p> Soon . <p> So he 's the one ? <p> Yes . <p> Girl , I 'm happy for you . <p> Thanks . She shut her eyes and pictured Toosha 's face . Dark skin . Fat cheeks . Little eyes like watermelon seeds . And two thin cornrows , dyed red , rising out the top of her head like TV antennae . Her head was shaved bald everywhere else . <p> What does Les do ? <p> He owns a teashop . <p> Say what ? A teacher ? Teachers do n't <p> No . He owns a teashop . A whole chain of them . The Sonic Chitlins Cafe . <p> Word ? I stopped at one just a few days ago . Downtown on Madison . Strobe lights ? Waitresses with short-short miniskirts ? <p> Yes . <p> Girl , he 's large . Hey , vast money-you ca n't beat that . Hope his @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ two-flat building was flanked by trees , where she could walk for hours on the hint of a path and never meet another human being . Layered branches groaned and cracked . Her shadow and the shadow of leaves like a jigsaw puzzle which moonlight tried to piece together . The grass underfoot was dry and brittle despite watering . Whatever troubled her veered away and nested somewhere in the trees among the unseen birds . <p> She entered her apartment to discover dull yellow urine percolating in the toilet . The toilet flushed angrily and sucked the air with it . She dropped to the tub and sat dizzy on the edge , eyes closed . Did Les have a key ? Had she given him one ? Had he cut his own ? <p> She rose in a dreamlike whirl and set the faucet running . Needed a bath after the heat , not a teasing shower . She allowed the water to run to appropriate temperature , rise to desired height , then climbed into the tub and sat down . Took white soap in her dark fingers @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and slowly massaged her unmoving legs , her dark fingers rubbing , squeezing , pinching . That done , she lay back in the tub , stirring ripples before her , a succession of half-circles expanding one within the other . Water closed over her , up to her chin . She rested and so did the water , clear and still . <p> Sash knotted-she did not recollect leaving the bath , draining the tub , scrubbing it clean , drying herself thoroughly ( she had not dripped on the floor ) , or slipping on her terrycloth robe-she flopped down on the couch and reviewed her mail . Bills . Solicitations . And a card from Les postmarked from Mauritius two weeks earlier . She had n't realized until then that she expected to arrive home and find him at her front door seeking forgiveness , trying to sweet-talk her with wedding plans . Where it would be held , where they would honeymoon , where they would live after . <p> She tossed the mail aside and tried to think back to when she had her first serious @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ matter now ? ) Six months of courtship and fun . ( Or was it eight ? ) Then he began to talk business with his morning swallow of coffee . Downline options , digital capital , bipolar technology . Such talk developed a physical need for travel , and he answered this need with business trips-he was forever on his way out , flight bag draped over his shoulder , airline ticket in hand , and the back of his head as he stepped out the door-two or three every week . Baby , success is ninety-five percent ability and five percent luck . You have to take the bull by the horns . I 'm going international . China is pretty much sewn up , but I hear the Zulus like their tea . <p> Then one day while he was away on business , she decided to drop into one of his teahouses and have a cup of Royal Grey and perhaps ease her longing for him . She was less than a half-block from the cafe when she saw a man pop out the establishment with his @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ knew that man was Les , could identify him by the distinctive shape of his head . Les ! she yelled . The man did not turn around . Les ! The man quickened his step and disappeared around the corner with his woman . <p> The memory was bitter and offensive . No doubt , breaking up with Les was the best decision she had ever made . To reassure herself she picked up the phone receiver and tapped Toosha 's number . While she waited for the line to pick up , some other thought vibrated through her , nagging . <p> Hey , girl . <p> Hey . <p> How 's life treatin ' you ? <p> Just crying the blues and drinkin ' cheap liquor . <p> I heard that . She twirled the coiled cord around her finger . So what you up to tonight ? <p> Going out . <p> That figures . Friday and Saturday nights , Toosha sought her fortune in the clubs : Taste , The Cherry Blossom , Tragedy for Free , Strictly Business , Contending Forces , and Heroes . @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ who caught her fancy . A man would stay with her for a week or two before Toosha would say , See ya ! , and hop off to the next trick . <p> What you up to ? <p> Not much . <p> So how was your day ? <p> She tilted her head , shrugged , as if Toosha could see her . I broke up with Les today . <p> What ? <p> He 's an asshole . A bitch . <p> I thought you really liked him . What happened ? <p> Where do I begin ? <p> Tell me . <p> She told Toosha about her suspicions . Told her how Les had not even bothered to seriously address these suspicions . <p> It 's good you dropped him , Toosha said . Change your cross for a crown . <p> She said nothing . <p> In the meantime , why do n't you give French a call ? You know I do n't backslide . <p> Even for a night ? <p> You 're too much . <p> That 's what they say . Why @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ . No way . Last time they 'd gone out together , Toosha had flicked her tongue fast and dirty at some cute guy barely old enough to gain entry into the club . Once upon a time Sheila might have done the same . Indeed , she recognized in Toosha 's sexual exploits the workings of her own mind . Who would n't want to get all they could ? Human nature . But they were both months shy of thirty and ought to be too wise , too seasoned to be caught up in all that shuttling back and forth . <p> What you got to lose ? <p> You know that ai n't me , she said . <p> Sheila heard flesh give and stretch as Toosha tugged into her leather thong . She groomed and dressed-always the brightest colors-for three hours before she went out into the world . Do n't catch nothing . <p> I always make sure homeboy wear his raincoat . Rubber can take a lot of tear and wear . <p> Peace . <p> Peace . <p> She hung up the phone . @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ couch . Then she noticed the room was completely dark , so she picked up the remote control and popped on the television . Blue flickering light brushed her legs feather-like , bare skin not covered by the robe . This same light penetrated her muscles like quills . Time curled around her . She saw without seeing and heard without hearing . The couch began to curve over her and under her , the jaws of a shell , and she felt her skin ossify . <p> The phone rang . <p> Is this Miss Jones ? <p> Yes . <p> Sheila Jones ? <p> Yes . <p> Well , today is your lucky day , Miss Jones . I 'm happy to inform you that you are the proud winner of a free plot at Greenview <p> She slammed the receiver to the cradle . The nerve of some people . A free cemetery plot . She stayed hunched over and silent , then she sensed an indistinct tingling and sought to identify it . Her finger . She looked down at it in the light and saw that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ second phantom ring . She scratched it , not feeling in the least out of anything . No more Les . No more Les . No more Les . She turned back to the TV and tried to pick up where she had left off . <p> Try our new fragrant ambrosia flavor . To drown <p> She switched the channel . <p> Would you kindly spin the wheel ? <p> She switched again . <p> The phone rang . <p> Soft whispered words . She yanked the phone cord from the wall . She saw through him instantly . She said it to herself with a clear little laugh . Outside the unshaded window the night spread clean and starless , while fingered branches held the moon in the sky . She felt a stab of uncertainty , not knowing what she had said , not knowing what she had meant , or might have meant . Blue light tingled at her toes like cold dark water . <p> A delay is not a denial . He was tiny there , a fuzzy dot , and as he drew nearer @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ he can return again . He seemed oddly helpless , pinned to his lectern by sharp watching faces . Is this not his promise ? He smiled his church smile . The crown outlasts the head . <p> She separated voice from body , dissected mouth from message . Ah , now she knew . It was the Reverend Martin " Spider " Thornhill , " God 's hardest-working servant " a clear-skinned man with red hair and freckles to match . She found nothing attractive about him . He was short , wide , and ugly , like a pit bull . <p> All history moves towards one great goal . His voice reverberated through the room so that she heard three or four voices . Exodus . The manifestation of God . <p> He said this merrily with light darting from his eyes , a true believer , taking no notice of his circumstances . She watched with increasing fascination and delight . The small figures of the congregation , choir , and pastor seemed trapped inside the TV , a luminous birdcage . And she sought to reach @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ into her hand and stroke it . <p> Jesus spoke from the cross , I have suffered many troubles and hardships in battle and tempest ; this will be only one more . <p> Spontaneous applause . <p> The hand of God is slow but sure . All days are His . <p> Light pulled like tape at her skin . And she touched herself all over to remain in place . <p> When your time comes and He takes you to his bosom , you must rise and follow , rise and follow . <p> She watched her legs waver in blue light as if underwater . Rising . <p> But with this spear I shall lift you up . Am I not a fisher of men ? The words altered his face , made something gentle happen . <p> Let us pray . <p> She bowed her head and clicked her eyes shut . Words tumbled through her skull . Lights flashing in the dark , broken bits of sparkle . She scratched her finger and repeated the words to herself , spoke them out loud-two voices in the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ validity . <p> Amen . <p> Amen , she said-so loud she startled herself She opened her eyes as if from a kiss . <p> Let us pause for station identification . He stepped down off the stage . Tuxedoed men set up a large floral arrangement behind the lectern , all hue and fragrance . ( She pinched her nose . Thought to sneeze . ) Seven young girls with seven flaming-red afros set off slowly down seven aisles , moving in rhythm . Left foot step . Pause . Right foot step . Pause . Each wore a white dress and white gloves , one hand **25;1402;TOOLONG cloth-lined ( red ) silver collection plate at the shoulder , the other crooked behind the back , as if cuffed . <p> Author Affiliation 
##1008769 All this , " said Wayne the plumber , " was written down in the Bible five thousand years ago . " He was out on the deck taking a break from doing angioplasty on the pipes beneath my kitchen sink . Meanwhile , he was giving his assistant , John Pickles , a lesson . <p> " Hey , Wayne " I yelled from an upstairs window , " you 're wrong about the date . Most of the events in the Bible did n't even take place five thousand years ago . Solomon , for example , in all his glory , at best got going about three thousand years ago , and nobody wrote the diary of his activities until at least a century later . " <p> I should n't have got involved . But why not ? I was desperate to get in on a theological discussion , especially with Wayne . Wayne was a plumber , all right , but he was also a missionary in Ecuador . He returned to the States one year out of every five and ran the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the broken and burst pipes of the bourgeoisie . After that it was back to church in the poor places outside Quito , where conversion was his calling . <p> " Be that as it may , " Wayne shouted back , " I 'd have to see some evidence . " <p> Ah , evidence ! I had n't been subscribing to Biblical Archeological Review for nothing-although it was almost nothing given the generous terms of their initial subscription rate . But evidence is a paltry thing compared to passion , and this , I knew , was where Wayne would have me by the U-bolt . <p> It , and by " it " I mean my desperation , had begun quietly enough on a soft summer day in the first year of the new millennium C.E. ( I 'm being careful here ) . The traffic on Route 9 outside the Chestnut Hill Mall congested and fumed , but the SUV in front of me presented a hopeful bumper sticker very much in favor of Jesus . It had been a long time since I had really thought @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of my people in the few but noisy and concentrated places that we occupied in the vast world , I had never given him a fair shake . <p> So I shook . In the historical , evidentiary direction , of course . It turned out from my excursion to the Newton Public Library , section 801.3 , that Jesus was n't just Jewish , he was really Jewish . Not only did he have no idea he was a Christian , he never imagined that he might become one . In addition , if I could work up the courage , I had some news to break to Wayne , and it was earthshattering . According to the two most eminent professors of Jewish Jesus , " son of God " was an Aramaic figure of speech . Digest that ! It meant nothing more and nothing less than " pious dude . " It was n't at all uncommon on the dusty streets outside Jerusalem for young studs to greet one other in the swish tongue of the day , with a friendly " Hey , son of God @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ had known for some time how dangerous inspired language could be to the literal-minded . For example , my own lot , the Jews . Who told us to strap a little black box with a prayer inside onto our heads once a day ? Answer : no one . " And ye shall bind these words upon your forehead " clearly meant " Remember them . But no , a hundred years pass , and someone dreams up the apparatus . Soon enough he 's got a business going , and the leather guy is happy , so who wants to interfere with at least two men 's livelihoods ? <p> I was trying not to interfere with Wayne 's , but there was no turning back . After a quick refresher read-up in The Changing Face of Jesus by Gezer Vermes , pp. 12-25 , I went down into the kitchen . <p> " Okay , " I said , " how do you explain this ? The Book of John says that the Last Supper took place on the day before the Passover Seder , but the Synoptic @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ " Yes , I know what they are , " Wayne said . He was patient with me . <p> " Well , they date it on the day of the Seder . You see what I 'm saying . They ca n't both be right . " <p> Wayne had his head under the sink . His legs were sticking out . <p> " John- " He was trying hard to project his voice , but I lost the rest of his sentence . <p> " It 's impossible , you see , " I continued , " that the Jews could have held a court hearing the following day , on Passover itself . <p> That was against the rules . So John must have got it wrong . ' <p> Wayne slid his pear-shaped body out from under the sink . His blond hair was flattened . He looked a little like Yogi Bear . <p> " The rules ? Impossible ? " <p> " Yes . " <p> " Well , did n't you ever hear of rules being broken ? " <p> He had a point @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ hard to know what had gone down between pink dawn and rosy dusk on consecutive days two thousand years ago . I 'd probably have to go back to the library . <p> " All I know , " Wayne said , " is that we could do with someone like Jesus now . " <p> He stood up . He was a head taller than me , and he had a wrench in his hand . <p> I decided to leave the son of God issue until after he 'd fixed the pipes . <p> Wayne dropped the wrench into his toolbox . " Are you , " he asked , " by any chance a connoisseur of the ancient languages ? " <p> " I know a little Italian , " I replied . Wayne knew I was kidding . <p> " The Hebrew Aleph , " he went on ; " is a pictorial symbol of the shift from a hunting to an agrarian culture . The letter is made up of a bull 's horns and a broken ring . The taming of the bull , you @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ far from my house in the village of Pifo who has a brass ring in his nose . I call him Aleph . " <p> " That 's fascinating , " I said . " So you do n't believe that Hebrew is a holy tongue ? " <p> " I believe in the Holy tongue of fire that is Our Lord Jesus Christ ! <p> " When do you think you 'll be done with the sink ? " I asked . <p> " This job , " Wayne said , " is quite complicated . It looks as if someone has been shoving Q-tips and rice down the waste disposal . It could take all day to unblock . " <p> It was dinnertime . My wife , Claire , and I were eating pad thai ordered in from Jamjuri . My son , Nick , had his own hamster food , three lettuce leaves and a crouton . He was starving himself in order to make weight for his first varsity high school wrestling match . <p> " Did you know ? " I began , " that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Wayne been round again ? " my wife interrupted . " I thought he was back in Ecuador . " <p> " Next month . He returns next month . " <p> " Maybe you should go with him . " <p> She had been harsh with me for two days , ever since she had overheard me on the phone telling a friend that I was in love with Helen Hunt . At the time she 'd got off a scathing " Yeah , like she 's gon na call you . " I thought that was the end of the matter , but it turned out it was just the beginning . <p> My son looked up from his leaves . <p> " Temptation Island tonight " he said . <p> " Disgusting , " my wife responded . " You 're just like your father . <p> And do n't you watch anything other than Fox ? " <p> " Yes , " he replied , " I watch Cribs , and sometimes there 's stuff on WB . " <p> I was thinking hard about the historical @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Aleph I did n't want to broach the subject in conversation . <p> The festival of Hanukkah was approaching , with its lovely candlelights not to be used for utilitarian purposes . I could have mentioned this at the dinner table , but that was to risk sounding like a religious fanatic , when in fact I was merely a sentimentalist and eclectic reader with too much time on his hands . Wrestling seemed safe . <p> " What weight are you going at ? " I asked Nick . <p> " One seventy . " <p> " And what do you weigh now ? " <p> " One seventy-five . " <p> He had the crouton speared on the end of his fork . <p> " Do n't you think , " he said , " that your friend Paul Vogel looks exactly like Osama bin Laden ? " <p> It was true , but Paul Vogel also looked like Kobe Bryant and Scottie Pippen . And a little kid in New York City had once approached him on a bus and asked if he was Jesus . <p> I @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ out of the pad thai while avoiding the noodles . <p> " According to the most unimpeachable sources , " I ventured , " Jesus was probably a Galilean Hasid , a pious wanderer , a miracle worker from out of the cold North . " <p> There was silence in the room , only the fridge muttered something in reply , buzzed up probably by my Nordic reference . <p> Eventually Claire said : " I 'm sure it 's hot in the Galilee , most of the time , anyway . " <p> I 'd expected this blow to fall , but anticipation did n't help to reduce its impact . These were serious times , and there was no excuse at all for flights of fancy in the service of a decent sentence . <p> " Are you going to come and watch ? " Nick asked . <p> " When 's the meet ? " <p> " Wednesday night . " <p> " I 'll be there " I said . <p> It was n't like I had anything else to do . I was recuperating from @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ gall bladder , which had decided to swell to bursting point , then spit tiny stones into the narrow channel that rushed deliveries to my liver , creating a blockage that not even Wayne could have foreseen . <p> The phone rang . <p> " You get it , " my wife said . <p> It was Paul Vogel calling from San Francisco . <p> " Hey , " I said , " we were just talking about you . The uncanny resemblance . ' <p> " Tell me about it " he replied . " I ca n't go out of the house . Half the neighborhood thinks I want to blow up the Golden Gate Bridge : ' " <p> " Did you think about shaving off your beard ? " <p> " What are you , the Taliban ? This is a free country . You can micromanage your own facial hair . " <p> " You 're right " I said . " That 's the beauty of America . " <p> We talked for a while about my scar , which was less a scar than @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ who was thirty and a newlywed . <p> " They pulled the gangrenous gall bladder out through my navel , " I said . <p> " Helen might like to know that , " my wife put in without looking up from her plate . <p> The crowd around the wrestling mat was standing-room-only . <p> The bout in progress offered an uncontroversial intergender affair , for these are open prairie days in the wide United States such as the world has never known . A boy in the 19o lb. range had spread his arms to circle the girth of his female twin . As the view cleared before me , he threw her to the ground and began to twist her arm . Somehow , Atlas rose , lifted her rival up on her back , and shunted him all the way to the perimeter . " Good job , Teresa ! " the man next to me shouted . He was wearing a T-shirt that had the words Hombres de Acero printed above the yellow and black logo of the Pittsburgh Steelers . Teresa 's parents , her @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the audience from our side cheered wildly . The wrestlers untangled , returned to the middle of the circle , and began to grab at each other again . <p> " It 's like watching a marriage , is n't it ? " said a skinny dad on my left whom I knew to be a recent divorce . <p> " Or Jacob wrestling with the angel , " I responded , but my interlocutor pretended that he had n't heard me , and I looked away as if I had n't spoken . <p> Okay , so it was n't only Jesus . Thoughts on religious matters were leeching onto my brain at an appalling rate , and this had been the case ever since my early dismissal from the hospital on the dual grounds of my body 's good behavior and pressure from Managed Care . <p> I lie . The trouble had begun even earlier , in the brown , unhappy hour before surgery . There I was half-asleep in the arms of Morpheus when my long-dead father stretched out his arm and clapped a silky yarmulke onto @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , glad , in a worst-case scenario , to meet my maker in the proper attire . Ten minutes later I was less appreciative when Norma , my still-living mother-in-law , showed up in the doorway of my hospital room . " ' Go in with a smile , come out with a smile ; that 's what my aunt Dixie used to say , " she said . Five milligrams of morphine performed the work that twenty years of therapy had failed to accomplish : " Go away , " I replied . <p> Back on the mat Teresa had pinned her man , his glistening hands flapped like fish on the hook and then went quiet : general uproar , the upspring of solid Teresa , slower rise of defeated opponent , quickly followed by a civilized handshake . It is finished . O strapping 190 lb. women of America , we who are about to die , salute you ! <p> Next up was Nick , whose opponent held him in a headlock for what felt like an hour . How much neck twisting can a boy take @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ his way toward the exit , the relentless gym lights shone on his bald spot , or perhaps the light emanated from his head . I could n't tell . When I looked back Nick 's noggin was still on his shoulders , and he was lifting one of his opponent 's legs in such a way that the boy was forced to hop backwards before crashing to the ground . <p> The ground . The muddy ground , so different from heaven with its whizzing planets , icy comets , and cold-hearted angels . We were watching the New England Patriots fight for a playoff spot . The TV , suicidally beautiful , was lit with the glow of fading December . Miami lined up . There was a minute to go . <p> " Do n't worry , " Nick said . " No team ever retrieves its own onside kick . " <p> " Jesus Christ , " I yelled . " Now you 've jinxed them . " <p> " No , " he said . " You jinxed them in the third quarter when you forgot @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ' <p> The kick bounced up , and Fred Coleman hugged the ball . He sustained an enormous hit but did n't let go . <p> " Double jinx , " I said joyously . " It 's like two minuses making a plus . " <p> It was almost impossible to rid oneself of superstition , much harder than to break with God , whose behavior over the centuries had been truly unfathomable ( what was He thinking ? ) , and now , on account of 9/11 , the entire nation was crossing its fingers every time it crossed the street . That was an irony , of course , that even Wayne might have appreciated . The Fundamentalists had returned us to fundamentals . <p> " It 's mainly Christian , you know , " I said to Nick . <p> " What is ? " <p> The Patriots were hugging and smacking each other all over the field . <p> " Our superstitions : unlucky 13 , the apostles at the Last Supper ; touch wood , fingering a piece of the cross ; do n't walk @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the cross . " <p> " Oh , yeah . " Nick twisted in his seat . <p> " Then there are the Jews with their spitting and evil eyes , and the blue lintels on Arab doorways to ward off trouble . Now bad things come in threes ' is a different story . It 's trench talk : strike a match and the enemy sees , light your cigarette and he takes aim , first puff and you 're smoke . " <p> " Hey , Mom ! " Nick called out . " Dad 's lecturing . " <p> At Foxborough Stadium the lights burned blue and yellow . A good number of the Patriots players pointed skywards and then clapped their hands to their hearts as a way of thanking God , who had helped them to victory while , in His picky way , choosing to send their opponents to ignominious defeat . It was axiomatic that in America for the last two decades at least , God , like everyone else , had developed a consuming interest in the worlds of sports and entertainment and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ did n't seem to like losers much , and they never thanked him . <p> The TV went to commercial , there was a fireman 's helmet and then a flag and then the name of an insurance company . The insurance company had decided to show the helmet and the flag against a background of stirring music . My wife had a claim logged against this particular company on account of travel plans that she had canceled in order to better nurse Nick in his summer of mononucleosis eighteen months ago . She had taken out the policy to cover her fare , but the company was quite sure that Nick had a " preexisting condition " and did n't feel inclined to pay up . We were appealing . <p> Nick clicked the remote , and the screen went blank . The world was rocking off its axis . In order to help steady it , at least in the narrow confines of our TV room , I turned to the grounding subject of love . <p> " What happened , " I asked Nick , " to that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ pierced eyebrow ? " <p> " Kiss and dismiss , " he replied . <p> A passenger jet , its engines screaming , passed over the house on its way into Logan . I thought I might step outside and put a little lamb 's blood on the lintel of the front door , but in the end I decided that , come spring , I would buy a ladder and begin to paint the house blue . <p> Author Affiliation 
##1008770 The time Anne left her husband , she went to France . She spent the first few days in Paris at an inexpensive hotel in the sixth arrondissement on rue Jacob . Her room was small and sparsely furnished ; the bathroom , too , was small , the shower produced a tepid trickle . Instead of looking out onto the busy street , the single window in Anne 's room gave out onto the back of the hotel , onto an empty courtyard where half a dozen large cats had convened to sun themselves-although it was late October and the days were getting shorter , darker . Right away Anne had planned to visit museums , churches , cathedrals , go to the top of the Eiffel Tower , but her first day in Paris she could hardly get out of bed . When finally she did , she stood at the window and watched the cats . She did not feel depressed so much as she felt absent . She did not think about her husband , George , or her daughters , or what they @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ explanation Anne had given before she left , was that the two girls were old enough to look after themselves and George would just have to cope with the groceries , the cooking , the washing , whatever Anne did all day . Making a vague fanning motion with her hand , Anne told George , she needed air . <p> The second day Anne roused herself and walked from Sainte Chapelle , to Notre Dame , to the Louvre ; the third day it rained , and Anne bought a lot of clothes : a dress , a suede jacket , a pair of trousers , two silk blouses , all of them expensive ; she charged them to George . She was also starting to feel lonely . ( Except for a fat man sitting at the next table in a restaurant who asked Anne if she recommended her canard a l'orange-not looking up from the magazine she was reading , Anne had answered a barely audible Oui-Anne had spoken to no one except salespersons and waiters . ) On the fourth day , a man followed Anne as @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and although her heart was pounding and she was nearly running , Anne remembered a stupid joke she had once heard about an American tourist who , in her confusion , instead of calling the man on the Metro who pinched her cochon-pig-says to him couchons-let 's sleep together . Two hours later when Anne left the hotel again to have dinner , the man was across the street still waiting for her , smoking a cigarette . Couchons ! <p> The next morning , standing at her window and looking down at the cats in the courtyard-by then , Anne had a favorite , a big marmalade cat who except for an occasional wave of his tail lay motionless for hours on his side-she called her best friend from school , Nina . <p> At the Montpellier train station , Anne , her large suitcase at her feet , waited for Nina . As usual Nina was late , and Anne was reminded of all the times Nina had kept her waiting , in particular the time that had led to her meeting George since she could no longer keep @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Nina indefinitely . At last Anne saw Nina . Her raincoat buttoned up the wrong way , she was running down the platform , waving . <p> " You look just the same , " Anne said , kissing Nina , who looked much thinner . Her red hair was streaked with gray . <p> " So do you , " Nina answered breathlessly . " Always tres chic . " <p> In college , both Anne and Nina had majored in French ; after graduation , Nina had gone abroad to study music and had fallen in love with a musician . <p> Anne shook her head , she suddenly felt like crying . " Your children ? " she asked instead . <p> " At home , with Michel . " Michel , the musician , was already married to someone else , to a woman named Eliane , whom he could not divorce ; Nina and Michel had two small children , a girl and a boy . " Here , let me . " Nina reached for Anne 's suitcase . <p> Embarrassed all of a sudden @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ she handed Nina her new jacket . " Take this instead , " she said . <p> " Oh , how beautiful . Nina stroked the suede . " I 'll have to borrow it from you . She smiled . They both knew that Nina was referring to the many times in college when Nina used to borrow Anne 's clothes . Sometimes , she would borrow them without asking . <p> " No , keep it , I mean it , " Anne said . As she opened the door to Nina 's car , a large white dog lying on the front seat raised his head . <p> " Git , July ! Get in the back , " Nina ordered the dog . " She followed us from the beach last summer , the children insisted on keeping her . Do n't go near her , she sheds . " The back seat of Nina 's car was littered with toys , a discarded sweater , a pair of shoes , food wrappers . " Do n't mind the mess , " Nina also said . <p> @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Nina had been incapable of putting her own clothes away or back where they belonged-in the closet or in the bureau drawers . Nina left everything trailing on chairs or lying on the floor . But it was her sweetness more than anything else that had attracted Anne , and Nina 's selflessness-she had a kind of otherworldliness , a total lack of ego-was how Anne would describe her later . <p> " How many people live in however you pronounce the name of your village ? " Anne asked as Nina started up the car . The village Nina lived in was a few miles north of Montpellier . <p> " St. Guilhem-le-Desert , " Nina enunciated the name for Anne . " About two hundred , except on weekends and holidays , then it is more like two million people . The Cevennes has become a big tourist center for walking and climbing . Also , you would be surprised at the number of pilgrims . " <p> " Pilgrims ? " <p> " Yes , they come to worship a three-inch piece of the True Cross which Charlemagne @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ knights , a man named Guilhem who built an abbey you can visit if you like . Now a community of Carmelite nuns lives where the original abbey-oh , I do n't mean to go on about the local sights . " Nina reached with one hand to touch Anne 's arm . " Tell me , " she asked , " how 's George ? " <p> " I think I 've left him , " Anne said , turning to the side window so that Nina could not see her face . " Nothing is settled yet . But go on , I like hearing about where you live . " <p> " There 's a castle we can visit , too , " Nina told Anne after a while . <p> " Oh , what a pretty village , " Anne exclaimed as Nina was parking the car . " It looks as if your house was built back in the Middle Ages . " <p> " It was . " Nina laughed . " There 's practically no heat in winter , and there 's just enough @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ more like camping out . " <p> " I 'm just so happy to see you , " Anne said , getting out of the car and brushing at her skirt , which was covered with white dog hair . <p> Nina 's children , Sophie and Paul , were sitting at the kitchen table coloring in a book . Michel , a big man in a red wool check shirt , was wearing a headset and listening to music ; he did not hear Nina and Anne come in . <p> " Hello , cheri ! " Nina shouted . <p> Anne stood at the door and smiled at the children , who were staring at her . July , the dog , trotted past her , and Sophie , the little girl who was eight , got down from the chair and knelt in front of the dog and put her arms around the dog 's neck . <p> " Je t'aime , " she crooned . <p> Michel looked up , then he turned off the music and took off the headset . <p> Anne went up to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ you , Michel . " <p> " How was your trip , Anne ? " he answered , his English heavily accented . Then Michel turned to the children . " Anne , here , went to school with maman when maman was a girl . " Michel spoke as if this was the first time Anne 's name had been mentioned in their family . " She lives in America , do n't you , Anne ? " <p> Anne nodded . <p> " Come , let me show you to your room , " Nina said . <p> Anne 's room was Sophie 's , and Sophie had been moved into Paul 's room . The bed was a narrow child 's bed , and the quilt on it was covered with faded figures of Babar . Once Nina had gone back downstairs , Anne set her suitcase at the foot of the bed and opened it ; all her clothes , sweaters , skirts , jackets , were carefully wrapped in tissue to keep them from wrinkling . There was no closet in the room , only a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the door , and Anne decided not to unpack after all . Instead she took out her flowered toilet kit and went down the hall to the only bathroom . When she tried to lock the bathroom door , she found the lock did not turn . <p> In the afternoon , Michel left to play in his band in Montpellier , and Nina drove Sophie to a ballet lesson . Anne stayed with Paul , who turned on an old black-and-white television to watch cartoons . The picture had a grainy quality she remembered from her own childhood . <p> When Anne woke up it took her a few seconds to remember where she was . " Paul ? " <p> " He 's here " Nina said from the doorway . " You fell asleep . " From the remarks of the two children , Anne realized that Paul had left the television and gone outside to pile stones on the side of the road . She was frightened all of a sudden . " I ca n't believe I did that , " she said . <p> " @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ " As the youngest , Paul has a highly developed sense of self-preservation , and there 's never much traffic on our street . Look how this fits me . " She twirled around in Anne 's suede jacket , then she mentioned dinner and said , " You must be starving , Anne . I told you , did n't I , that Michel is a vegetarian ? " <p> " Do you have anything to drink ? Some wine ? " Anne , after a while , asked Nina as Nina was boiling water for the spaghetti . <p> " Wine ? Oh , gee , I 'm sorry . I 'll ask Michel to get you some tomorrow . " <p> " It does n't matter . I just thought if you did-that 's all . Here , " Anne also said , " let me do something useful . " <p> As Anne was setting the table , she could hear Nina humming in the kitchen . Nina had a beautiful singing voice-when she sang , everyone said , Nina was transformed ; Nina became powerful , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and even though she was fairly certain of the answer , Anne called out to Nina in the next room , " Are you still singing ? " <p> That night in bed , underneath the too-flimsy Babar quilt , Anne kept all her clothes on except for her shoes , the room was so damp and cold . And disoriented , she did not sleep much . She heard Michel come up the stairs-by the luminous hands on her watch , which she had never bothered to change , it was ten o'clock in the morning on the east coast of the United States-and for a moment she confused him with George , about whom she had been dreaming . ( In the dream , she was in a crowded room , at a party perhaps , where George , who did not smoke , was smoking and offering everyone in the room a cigarette-a special blend , George kept saying in a boastful and unfamiliar way . ) Later , at seven and while it was still dark , she heard Nina get the children ready for school ; @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , then she got up and dressed-she merely put on another sweater-and brushed her hair . On her way downstairs , she stopped in the bathroom . Wearing only the red check shirt , Michel was sitting on the toilet , looking through a magazine . <p> " Oh ! " Embarrassed , Anne quickly shut the bathroom door . Michel had barely glanced up . " Pas de probleme , " he said . <p> " How about a walk ? " Nina suggested when she got back later that morning . " We can go up to the castle , but it 's a bit of a hike . I 'll take July-good exercise for her . " <p> Rue du Bout-du-Monde-end of the world road , Nina translated for Anne-was the name of the road they were walking on , and it was so steep and narrow Anne was grateful that she had on her walking shoes . Even so , she kept slipping on the loose stones and pebbles . Around them , the countryside consisted of sharp limestone hills covered with impenetrable scrub and oak thickets @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ first met . I guess that 's why I did n't notice how steep it is , " Nina said with a little laugh . She had July on a leash , and the dog was pulling her . <p> " I imagine it helps to be a goat , " Anne said . <p> " A sheep , you mean . In summer , the place is filled with them . Each year the shepherds bring up their flocks , and you should see all the lambs- " Nina stopped . " But I really want to hear about you , Anne . " <p> " The two girls are all right , I guess , " Anne began in an expressionless voice . " They 're in school , they 're getting good grades , and they 've already decided on careers : Danielle wants to be a doctor , Joyce a lawyer . " <p> " And George ? Is there someone else ? " <p> Anne shook her head . " Sometimes , I wish there were . There 's nothing I can really point a finger @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ It 's just so trivial and predictable . And I guess it always boils down to the same thing-sex , which in our case is nearly nonexistent . I know , I know , I am being incredibly spoiled , but I want more , and I want it to be different . " <p> " Different is not necessarily better , " Nina said . <p> They walked on in silence ( except for Nina occasionally telling July to stop or to been until they reached the top of the ridge and the ruined castle-all that remained of it was the curtain wall and the sixty-foot-high keep faced with huge limestone blocks-but the view more than anything else drew them . The sheer drop from the cliff and the gorge hundreds of feet below . <p> " So what happened to Guilhem ? " Anne asked . <p> " After his wife died , Guilhem gave up all his worldly possessions and became a monk . He spent the rest of his life in a cell , fasting , praying " -far down in the village , a church bell @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the legend , ' Nina continued , " when Guilhem died , all the church bells began to ring at once of their own accord without anyone pulling on the ropes . " <p> Again that night Michel left to play in the band , but at dinner Nina held up a bottle of wine . She poured Anne a glass , then herself a glass as well . " I know it 's funny , " she said , " most people , including my family , think that musicians drink , smoke , they think that musicians are completely dissipated , but Michel is n't like that . And he 's a wonderful father . " <p> Anne sipped more wine . " So , you 're really happy , Nina ? " <p> Nina shrugged . " Happy ? Sure , I 'm happy . I miss a lot of things . I wish Michel did not have to struggle so hard to get work . But I love him , and I love the children . " <p> Except for saying good morning and goodbye and making @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ had barely spoken to Michel . " You do n't mind not being married ? " <p> " I do n't think about it anymore . And , in a funny way , I like Eliane . Sophie and Paul like her , too . " <p> Again , that night , Anne could not get to sleep , but instead of tossing and turning under the too-thin Babar quilt , she turned on the light and read in a guidebook how first Guilhem captured the city of Nimes by hiding his soldiers in wine barrels and then how he lost the tip of his nose fighting off the pagans in Rome . Later , Anne woke up to find the light on in her room and , after a moment of confusion , to the sounds of Michel and Nina making love . Couchons ! Anne half-wished she had asked the man who had followed her in Paris-he was not bad-looking in a foreign sort of way-to have a drink with her ; it would have been easy . <p> " What kind of music do you play ? " @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the children to school , and Michel was making coffee in the kitchen . " Rock ? " <p> Michel nodded . " Whatever people want to hear . Tu veux du cafe , Anne ? " <p> " I 'd love to hear you play , " Anne went on , handing Michel her cup . " Maybe , one of these nights . My husband-you should meet him- " she heard herself say , " he 's a great- " How to explain the word fan ? -Anne 's voice trailed off . <p> When Nina got back to the house , she had a headache , the start of migraine , she said . <p> " I hope it was n't the wine , " Anne said . <p> Nina shook her head . " I 'll be fine later . " She smiled at Anne , but her eyes were watery and unfocused . " I just need some sleep , " she said . <p> " Do n't worry about me , Nina . I 'll go for a walk , " Anne said . " @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ? " she added too late -- Nina was halfway up the stairs and did not hear her . <p> " You can walk to the Grotte de Clamouse , " Michel told Anne after Nina had gone . <p> " The grotte ? Is it a cave ? " <p> Michel nodded . " It 's only three kilometers from here . I can start you on your way , if you like . Show you a shortcut , so you wo n't have to walk on the main road . " <p> " That 's very kind of you , " Anne answered . " I 'll just go and put on my walking shoes . " <p> When Anne returned downstairs , Michel was wearing a different shirt , a blue cotton dress shirt . <p> " Some of the caves are so far underground they have never seen the light of day , yet bunches of green ferns are growing inside them , " Michel told Anne as they set off through the village . " Also , you will see beautiful crystals in the shape of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ . " <p> " Aragoneat ? " Anne repeated after him . She felt stupid . She knew nothing about caves or crystals . <p> " Sometimes my father worked as a guide , he took tourists inside the caves . He had the good fortune to go on several exploratory expeditions with Martel . " When Anne did not answer , Michel continued , " Edouard-Alfred Martel , the famous , how do you say , speleogiste . " <p> " Ah , yes . Speleogiste . " Anne felt as if she were having a conversation with someone from another planet ; uncharacteristically , she was tempted to laugh . She bent her head so that Michel could not see her while she tried to compose her face . After a while , she asked , " Your father is from this region ? This region ? " Anne repeated it the French way . <p> They had reached the outskirts of the village , and instead of answering her , Michel pointed out a path which ran parallel to the main road . " One of the oldest @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ was a boy I went every summer with my father when he took up the ships . " <p> " Yes . Sheep , Nina told me how- " Anne started to say when , without warning , Michel took her in his arms and tried to kiss her on the mouth . Letting out a cry of surprise , Anne shook herself free . <p> Anne had tied a scarf around her head . Now the ends of the scarf whipped around and hit her face , startling her . The day , which had started out mild , had turned chilly all of a sudden , and the wind had picked up . Fast-moving clouds hid the sun ; any moment it looked as if it was going to rain . No one else was on the path , which no longer ran parallel to the road but wound more and more steeply up the hillside , who knew to where ? And who would find her if she twisted an ankle or broke a leg ? There were no signs or markers , and Anne was angry at @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the road instead . Also , she was angry at Michel . Fool , she thought , not sure whom she meant . Then she stopped so abruptly she almost lost her balance . She had been about to step on something that she could not immediately identify-a mass of dirty white wool . <p> A year to the day nearly after Anne left St. Guilhem-le-Desert , Nina died of a brain tumor-the cause of the headaches , Anne supposed . Michel had telephoned her at two o'clock one morning-eight o'clock in St. Guilhem-le-Desert-to let her know , and it took Anne , who was in bed asleep next to George , a while to understand who Michel was and what he was telling her . " What time is it there ? " she had said foolishly at the same time that she thought , or perhaps imagined , she heard bells ringing in the background . And what had Nina told her about the church bells ringing of their own accord ? Next , still only half-awake , Anne asked Michel if there was anything she could do for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ with my wife , " Michel said . " Eliane . Perhaps this time we can work it out . " <p> The dead sheep had been lying right across her path-underneath the matted wool , Anne had seen a row of startlingly white rib bones , underneath the rib bones , she had seen the ground . The sheep must have been dead for quite some time . Anne had to step over the dead sheep or else go back down . <p> Author Affiliation 
##1008850 From 1943 to 1954 , women played baseball in the the All -- American Girls Professional Baseball League ( AAGPBL ) . The league grew to include ten teams . Players like Isabel Alvarez ( left ) were talented and competitive . The games thrilled baseball fans during World War II and in the decade after . <p> CHARACTERS YOUNG GEORGIA Georgia Baskin , a 14-year-old girl who loves baseball GEORGIA Georgia Baskin as a 16-year-old FLORENCE AND JENNIE Georgia 's best friends MR . AND MRS . BASKIN Georgia 's parents FRANKIE Georgia 's teenage brother PHILIP WRIGLEY president of the WIlliam Wrigley Jr . Chewing Gum Company and owner of the Chicago Cubs baseball team MR . MEYERHOFF a colleague of Mr. Wrigley 's MR . LARKEY AND MR . MCDONALD baseball talent scouts SOPHIE Sophie Kurys , a player on the Racine Belles HISTORIANS 1 &2; explain historical facts NARRATORS 1,2 , &; 3 tell the action of the play ANNOUNCERS 1,2 , &; 3 Scene 1 September 1941 A small town in upstate New York Narrator 1 : Georgia , Florence , and Jennie @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Georgia Baskin is on the mound ! She winds up , and here 's the pitch ! Narrator 2 : Georgia pitches the baseball to Jennie . Jennie : Youch ! Young Georgia : Sorry , Jen ! Just tryin " out my fastball . Jennie : Must be Frankie 's mitt . It gives you special powers . Young Georgia : Those special powers wo n't protect me if Frankie catches me using it . Florence : How did Frankie get Joe DiMaggio to sign it ? Historian 1 : Joe DiMaggio was the most famous baseball player in America . Young Georgia : Dad was visiting his brother in New York City . He went to Yankee Stadium and waited in the rain for Joe to appear . Jennie : Frankie 's so lucky ! Young Georgia : Dad should have given it to me . I 'm the one who loves baseball . Florence : Uh oh , there he is ! Jennie : Let 's scoot , Flo ! Narrator 3 : Georgia 's friends rush away as Frankie comes charging onto the field . Frankie : @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Narrator 1 : Georgia throws the baseball up in the air , so high it seems to disappear into the clouds . She lines up the mitt to catch the ball , but Frankie yanks the mitt off her hand . Narrator 2 : The ball falls to the ground . Frankie : Real girls do n't play in the dirt . Scene 2 That night at the Baskins " dinner table Frankie : ... and I 've told her a million times not to use that mitt ! Mr. Baskin : Georgia , I 've told you you should be helping your mother after school . Mrs. Baskin : Georgia had finished her chores . Frankie : Take it again and I 'll ... Mrs. Baskin : Enough ! Do n't we have more important worries than a baseball mitt ? Narrator 3 : The family finishes supper in silence . Afterward , Georgia helps her mother with the dishes . Young Georgia : I 'm sorry . Mrs. Baskin : They 're not really so mad at you , dear . They 're tense is all . The news @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ very worried . Historian 2 : World War II had erupted . Any Photograph World War II was a frightening time . Every week , thousands of young men left their homes to fight overseas . In 1939 , the U.S. Army had 190,000 men . By 1945 , it had 10.4 million . Photograph From 1936 to his retirement in 1951 , New York Yankee Joe DiMaggio was America 's most beloved player . He joined the Army during World War II . <p> day , America would be at war with Germany . Young Georgia : Will Frankie have to go fight ? Mrs. Baskin : Yes , I believe he will . Scene 3 January 1943 The office of Philip Wrigley in Chicago , Illinois Mr. Wrigley : Gentlemen , let 's face the facts . Our country is at war . Our best men are on the battlefields , not on the baseball diamonds . Our biggest stars have enlisted : Joe DiMaggio , Hank Greenberg , Ted Williams ... Historian 1 : America was now fighting Germany and Japan . More than 10 million American men @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ major league baseball players . Mr. Meyerhoff : Sir , President Roosevelt himself told us baseball is important for Americans , especially now . Times are tough , and we need something to cheer about . Mr. Wrigley : Exactly my thinking . That 's why I want to start a new league . A girls " league . We 'll find the best girl players in the country , make up a few teams , and let em play ball . Mr. Meyerhoff : You really think Americans want to see their girls chewing tobacco and cursing at umpires ? Mr. Wrigley : Oh , we 'll make sure they behave like ladies . We 'll dress them up in fetching uniforms . Send them to charm school if need be . Mr. Meyerhoff : Brilliant . They 'll look like ladies . But they 'll play ball like gentlemen . Mr. Wrigley : Mark my words . Americans will love this . Scene 4 A few weeks later A high school playing field Jennie : Georgia , you are a star ! Did you hear your mother screaming in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to see her smiling . She 's so worried about Frankie . Historian 2 : Like millions of young men , Frankie is a soldier fighting overseas . Florence : At least you have his DiMaggio mitt . And it sure is bringing you luck ! Jennie : Florence ! What a thing to say ! Georgia does n't care about the mitt . Florence : I meant as a way to think of Frankie ! Georgia : I do n't have the mitt anymore . I sent it to Frankie . I just hope he gets it . Photograph Women filled jobs in offices and factories . They built planes , tanks , and supplies that enabled the U.S. and its allies to win the war . When the war ended , many women had to give up their jobs to soldiers returning home . <p> Florence : Frankie wo n't have time to play baseball on a battleship in the middle of the Pacific Ocean . Georgia : The mitt will bring him luck . Jennie : That 's big of you , Georgia . Narrator 1 : Florence @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ two men call to her . Mr. Larkey : Georgia Baskin , right ? You 've got quite an arm . Georgia : Thanks . Mr. Larkey : I 'm Bill Larkey and this here 's Joe McDonald . We 're talent scouts for a new ball league . A girls " league , 100 percent professional . Mr. McDonald : Run by Mr. Philip Wrigley ! Mr. Larkin ( handing Georgia a piece of paper ) : This paper tells all the details . Tryouts are in Medford this weekend . If we like you , we 'll send you to a final tryout in Chicago . Mr. Larkey : Think about it . Georgia : certainly will ! Scene 5 The Baskin house at dinner time Mrs. Baskin : I 'm sending another package to Frankie tomorrow . Anything you want to add ? Mr. Baskin : I picked up a football magazine . Georgia : I want to tell him about the new baseball league . Mr. Baskin : A new league ? Narrator 2 : Georgia takes the paper from her pocket and smoothes it out on @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Baskin : A girls " league ! Is n't that something ! Girls playing like professionals ! Georgia : A man from the league watched my game today . He said I should try out . Mr. Baskin : Nobody wants to watch girls try to play baseball ! Mrs. Baskin : They certainly line up to see Georgia pitch in the high school games . Mr. Baskin : Georgia 's 16 years old . She 's not going to traipse around the Midwest in some kind of carnival ! Georgia : Excuse me . I have a terrible headache . Narrator 3 : She gets up and goes to her room . Mr. Baskin : Girls playing baseball . If only Frank could hear this . He 'd have a laugh ! Photograph Philip Wrigley created the women 's league . Many doubted that fans would want to watch women play . However , the league was a huge success from the start . Photograph Women baseball players had to wear skirts and makeup . They could not have short hair . But the feminine -- looking players were tough @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ was one of the league 's original four teams . <p> Mrs. Baskin : Women are working in factories . Women are building airplanes and ships and guns . Nobody says that 's nonsense . Mr. Baskin : That 's different . Those women are helping us win the war . Mrs. Baskin : These are dark times , Charles . If our daughter has a chance to live her dream , I want her to take it . Mr. Baskin : But she 's so young . Mrs. Baskin : So is Frank . And he 's at war . Mr. Baskin : If you want to let our girl go , I wo n't stop her . Scene 6 May 1943 Wrigley Field , Chicago , Illinois Narrator 1 : Georgia aces her tryout in Medford and is invited to the final selection in Chicago . Historian 1 : Over 250 girls tried out in Chicago , but only 64 would be chosen for the four teams . Narrator 2 : After fielding trials , Georgia sits down on a bench next to another girl . Georgia : I @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ . Have you been watching some of these girls ? A few have been to the Olympics . Georgia : From what I saw , you 're one of the best . Sophie : I 've never wanted anything more . Georgia : Me either . Narrator 3 : After three days of tryouts , Georgia calls home with some news . Georgia : Mom ! I made it ! I 'm on the Racine Belles ! Mrs. Baskin : Oh , Georgia ... Georgia : What 's the matter ? Mrs. Baskin : We got a telegram . Frank 's been injured . There was an explosion on his ship . Four boys were killed . Frank 's in a hospital in Hawaii . They do n't know if he 'll ... Georgia : I 'm coming home ! Mrs. Baskin : No you wo n't . You will take this chance and make the most of it . Scene 7 Three months later A playing field in Racine , Wisconsin Announcer 1 : That 's it , folks , another exciting game between our own Racine Belles and the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ wear skirts and makeup . They could not have short hair . But the feminine -- looking players were tough and highly skilled . The Racine Belles , right , was one of the league 's original four teams . Photograph The league had many superstars , including Dorothy Wiltse Collins , an ace pitcher on the Minneapolis Millerettes . Photograph Sophie Kurys ( a.k.a . " Flint Flash " ) stole 1,114 bases during her career as a player on the Racine Belles . <p> Announcer 2 : We had some big plays -- Sophie Kurys stole three bases . Dottie Collins Wilse hit a triple . And we had solid relief pitching by the youngster Georgia Baskin . Announcer 3 : Let 's have a big cheer for the teams . And God bless America and our troops ! Narrator 1 : The players are changing in the locker room . Sophie : I 've never had so much fun in my life . Georgia : When you stole home , my heart jumped out of my chest ! Sophie : They almost nabbed me ! Narrator 2 : @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ her parents waiting outside . Georgia : Mom ! Dad ! Oh no ! Has something happened to Frank ? Mrs. Baskin : No , no , he 's doing fine ! They 've transferred him to San Francisco . Mr. Baskin : Frank sent something home for you . He asked me to deliver it myself . Narrator 3 : Mr. Baskin reaches into his bag . Georgia : The DiMaggio mitt ! I knew it would bring him luck ! Mrs. Baskin : Look at it , Georgia . There 's something different . Narrator 1 : Georgia studies the mitt . Her face lights up . Mr. Baskin : Mr. DiMaggio 's in the army , too . He 's stationed in San Francisco . He paid a visit to Frank 's hospital , and Frank got him to sign the mitt again . For you . Georgia ( reading ) : " To Georgia Baskin , a fellow pro . Keep playing in the dirt . Joe DiMaggio . " Her are two great stories about the AAGPBL : A Whole New Ball Game by Sue Macy @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ : The Story of the Young Women Who Won the World Championship by Doreen Rappaport and Lyndall Callan ( Dial Books ) . Photograph <p> 