The Willow Tree: A Novel Page 5

  So….Bobby blinked his eyes into focus, more aware than before how swollen his face was. Moishe felt Bobbys forehead and nodded, Good, good. For a long time youre sleepin. Thats good. Moishe handed a thermometer to Bobby, Put this under your tongue. Bobby took the thermometer, How come you aint got no rats down here—continuing to look at Moishe as he put the thermometer under his tongue. Moishe smiled, Doesnt ask what time, how long hes asleep, what is going to happen—Moishes smile broadened and he shrugged, He asks about rats. You like rats? Youre having maybe a pet rat? Youre worried maybe youre not having rats to play with? and Moishe laughed out loud, Maybe you are having a concussion already…or maybe some of those bumps—tapping Bobby on the head—is where your brains came out—and he laughed louder and looked at Bobby with curiosity and affection—Hey man, this place should be crawlin with those ugly fuckers what—Moishe touched Bobby on the shoulders gently, Put that back under your tongue…ya, ya, good….Moishe stood up and continued smiling at Bobby, Just making stupid joke. You look terrible, but you seem alright, okeydokey—and he chuckled and when Bobby opened his mouth to speak he raised a hand and shook his head, Keep under your tongue. More just a minute—smiling when Bobby mumbled but put the thermometer under his tongue and closed his mouth. Good….Cats. Lots of cats. Maybe hundreds. In here Im keeping just four…for mice—and he laughed out loud and Bobby started laughing, not knowing why but something about the old man tickled the shit out of him, but he stopped laughing almost at once as Moishe raised a hand, and the pain of his face stabbed him, Ya…its true for mice and tigers—What the fuck you be talkin about—Shhh, taking the thermometer from Bobby and reading it, Good—nodding his head emphatically, Prima—shaking it down and putting it back in the small jar with alcohol. Moishe put his hands, gently, on Bobbys shoulders, You very strong…good health. Yeah, its all them rats I eat—Bobby giggled then stopped abruptly as the pain stabbed him again, Damn, that laughins a bitch—and he smiled and Moishe laughed, nodding his head, feeling the joy flowing through his body. Now what the fuck this shit about tigers. Ya…is true. You see any tigers here???? Bobby looked at him for a moment, controlling his smile, and shook his head, giggling, Ah dont see no hippa fuckin pottamuses either but—Ya, ya, for the first time I see already they not only keep away the mice and tigers, but also the hippopotamus…ya…is good. Bobby shook his head and smiled as much as he could, shaking his head gently and giggling, You one crazy muthafucka Mushie, an you aint on nothin either…damn—and he continued shaking his head and giggling, then put out his left hand, Gimme 5 Mush. Moishe looked at him quizzically for a minute—Slap my hand, dontchya know nothing but tigers and hippofuckinpottamuses—and Bobby giggled louder and louder bordering on hysteria, the release of tension so clear and simple Moishe wasnt concerned but simply watched it happen and touched Bobbys hand, gently—Now turn your hand over—and Bobby touched his palm then shook his head—Dontchyall ever watch no basketball—Moishe shrugged—Bobby continued grinning, We gonna hippen you up ol man—and they looked at each other for a moment, smiling, both feeling and enjoying the warmth of each others smile and the affection flowing between them. Bobby suddenly frowned, Who feed all those hundreds a cats you be talkin about? Mice and rats. Bobby looked at him for a moment, Sure, like they be goin out an buyin Puss n Boots forim…an whach you wantin for dessert? Ya, ya, they have charge card for pussy-cat food—and Moishe laughed so loud and completely that he shook and sat down on a chair and again he and Bobby looked at each other, laughing, shaking their heads, not really certain why they were laughing, knowing what they were saying sure wasnt that funny, but feeling better and better as the laughter flowed through them, each ones laughter and relief bringing something else to the other person and at the same time releasing something from each other…eventually they stopped laughing and Moishe wiped the tears away from his eyes….But is true. The cats kill rats and mice and eat them—Moishe shrugged—And sometimes the rats kill cats and eat them. So…never too many rats or too many cats. And theres always garbage. Everywhere for miles, plenty of garbage for the cats and rats and mice and—gesturing with his arms—everything else.

  They sat quietly for a moment, then Moishe got up, Sit in the chair while Im checking the cuts. Bobby got up, slowly and carefully, no longer concerned about the old man being there while he was in his undershorts. He got up slowly, carefully and sat in the chair and tilted his head back so Moishe could see. Moishe examined the cuts, nodding his head in approval and relief, applying more antibacterial ointment where needed, very carefully touching the various cuts and lacerations to determine the amount of swelling, noticing Bobby, as before, wincing from time to time but saying nothing. Moishe felt a feeling of pride well up in him as he watched Bobby silently sit still while being examined. When he finished he smiled, So…is good. Prima. Black and blue, ya, but—Yeah, but the black be there anyways…damn, you a crazy ol man Mushie. So….But crazy old man makes a good soup, O, Im buying new clothes. Moishe handed Bobby a pair of cotton pants and a cotton shirt, Theyre soft so wont scratch the bruises—and he also handed him a pair of soft slipper-like shoes. Bobby put them on then stepped in front of the mirror, Damn, those muthafuckas really be fuckin me up, look like they be tryin to kill my ass. DAMN!!!! look at that…an I aint be doin nothin to those muthafuckin spics. But I be gettin them—So…how youre liking the clothes? Huh???? What you think? Bobby looked at himself for a moment, then shook his head. I sure be glad aint no mutha be seein me dress like this. So??? you look good. Bobby smiled at Moishe, You be thinkin I be lookin good I know I be fucked.

  Bobby followed Moishe into the kitchen walking slowly and very carefully at first, but soon he relaxed knowing his legs would hold him up, but he was still careful, not wanting to knock into anything, hurting enough without that. Moishe pulled out a chair at the table and Bobby sat and looked around while Moishe heated the soup then served it, putting a box of crackers and a loaf of dark bread and a bowl of butter on the table. Moishe cut a slice of bread and covered it with butter. Bobby looked at it for a minute, How come its so hard—nodding toward the butter. Moishe looked at him, not understanding why he asked the question, Butter is always hard from the refrigerator—Bobby looked at him and nodded his head slowly, O…butter—Bobby took a bite of bread and chewed slowly, tentatively, at first, then enthusiastically, Aint never seen no bread like this…and never had no butter…Sheeit, this be good man—smiling at Moishe who quickly cut another piece and started buttering it as Bobby attacked the soup with a spoon in one hand and the bread in another. Damn, this be good soup Mush, where you buy this? What buy? I make it. What store is making soup like this, echhh. Right the fuck on, this be somethin else. Moishe smiled, Chicken noodle soup…few bowls and already the blue is disappearing and youre all black. Moishe laughed and Bobby shook his head and smiled then giggled, You one far out mutha Mush…lookit here—extending his hand, Moishe tapping it then turning his over and Bobby tapping his, and they both laughed for many wonderful minutes, Bobby holding the spoon and the bread.

  Marias mother and grandmother were with her when she started coming to, their hands on their little girls legs and arms as before. The memory of the night quickly assaulted Maria and before she opened her eyes she stiffened suddenly, and her little body was rigid and as hard as concrete

  Maria—squeezing her tighter—we are here…Maria, Maria—standing and leaning close to her, seeing the tears in her eyes, seeing the pain struggling in her throat, feeling her body about to crack with tension…then watching her head move slightly and the eyes open and look at her and suddenly her little body seemed to crumble and the tension drained as her mother held her and once again absorbed the agony from her little girl, and her mother and grandmother soothed as Maria became more and more aware of their presence and touch, more aware of the light in the room, more aware that what she was seeing and feeling, now, was real and what she had been feeling was a bad dream, a really bad dream, but she was awake and there was light everywhere and she could
feel her mother and grandmother and hear their voices and even other sounds and she knew she was alright that her mother was there so she must be alive and alright and the light must be real and it must be daytime and Mommy…Mommy—tears swelling and throbbing throughout her little body, flowing through her throat and head and chest, seeming to sweep every thought before them, yet just the merest trickle flowed from her eyes as she reached to touch her mommy, to hug, to feel her breath, to smell her throat and hear her grandmother mumbling prayers, a tiny voice within her growing, nurtured by the tears, and joining her mothers voice and her grandmothers prayers, and sang within her and through her and around her, a voice of safety, a song that gently replaced all fear, a song she heard all her life even when the tune was different, a song that came from so many different places but always bubbled in her heart, and now it came from her mommy and grandmother and she hugged her mommy so hard it hurt her face and chest but she hugged and hugged and clung and listened to the song and tried to kiss her mommy but something was wrapped around her and mommy told her to be careful and gentle, that she was hurt but would be alright, her mommys words joining with the song and her heart became so light it almost floated from her chest and mommy laid her back on the bed and soothed her and brushed her hair back from her face like she used to do when she was a little girl, and she lay on the bed allowing her body to be quieted by the song and gradually her breathing slowed to keep time with the song and soon, in time, she gave up the struggle completely and lay quietly as her mommy dabbed, gently, at the tears with a tissue, telling her it was alright, that she was going to be well soon and Maria just lay there, quiet, peaceful, silent, simply hearing and feeling the song….

  and once again mother and grandmother sat with their little girl, trying to soothe and pray away her pain, the two sitting at the side of the bed each in her own way sighing with relief with every breath, unable to see their little girls face but feeling her relax beneath their touch, feeling her sense of safety, thanking God she was alive and would somehow be alright, unable to understand what the doctor had said, but knowing that the doctors would somehow make everything alright for their little one, that the doctors had great knowledge and many devices to help those that have illness and though it all seemed like a great mystery to them they knew that somewhere in this monster of a hospital, this hospital that was so big you could not walk through it in many days, so big that not even those who worked here would ever know each other, and while the old woman sat holding the thin legs of her granddaughter, she knew that her prayers would be answered by some unknown force hidden somewhere in the hospital, this place that so baffled and confused her, a woman who had lived for many years but had never before been in a hospital, all her children having been delivered at home in a village that was smaller than this world of people in many different uniforms, pushing many different machines and others carrying trays filled with bottles and cups and needles and people walking around pulling stands with bottles and tubes and needles in their arms and it was all beyond her understanding but she knew it would all help her granddaughter and she sat, praying, and looking at the bandaged face with two little slits for her eyes and one for her mouth, and Maria lay within her bandages, feeling herself breathe in and out, in and out, mommys here, mommys here….

  and so passed the minutes and hours of the morning, the comings and goings, the hangings and clangings, the moaning and crying, all sitting quietly, wordlessly….

  until, in time, the food cart came. The food server put Marias tray on the bedside stand and when the two women looked at her questioningly she showed them how to place the tray over the bed and how to crank up the bed so Maria could sit up and eat, But there dont be nothin much there to tell you the truth honey, jus some broth and jello…an the milk—She looked at Marias bandaged face—Guess you caint handle much anyway—she turned to the 2 women and lowered her voice, You bes be bringin much food you can from home. A person could be gettin mighty hungry they try an live on the food here—an she winked and continued distributing the trays. The woman in the bed next to Maria looked over at them, An you can believe it—toying with the food on her tray, shaking her head, wrinkling her nose, closing her eyes and sighing—If you can survive this food you can survive anythin—she smiled at them—Makes people want to leave as soon as possible—and she laughed and held her nose with one hand and picked up a piece of food with her fork. Marias mother smiled and nodded her head and told her mother that tomorrow they would bring soup for Maria and later she would go get something she would like. She and Maria looked at the soup, smelled it, looked at each other and smiled and the grandmother got up and stretched over to look at the tray, and then at them, then sat down and blessed herself and returned to praying.

  Marias mother looked at her daughter for a moment, forcing herself to smile, Are you comfortable like that? Should I make you higher in the bed? Maria nodded and her mother raised the back of the bed and the woman next to her said, Raise the bottom a little too, so you wont slide down, know what I mean? She looked at the woman for a moment, then nodded, Si, si—and raised the bottom a little so Maria could sit comfortably in the bed. Her mother blessed the food and started feeding Maria, the woman in the next bed laughing, It take more than that—and Marias mother carefully fitted the spoon into Marias mouth, watching her as she swallowed, watching her eyes blink and the bandages move, What is it? Marias voice almost inaudible, vibrating with fear and pain. They say it is soup—she shrugged, I will bring something from home…tomorrow. Later I can buy what you want…ice cream you would like ice cream????—and she smiled at her daughter as she carefully raised another spoon of soup, Maria turning her head slightly, I cant eat momma…I feel bad. I know, but the soup will strengthen you…please, one more….Maria slowly turned toward her mother and opened her mouth just enough for her to get the spoon in and Maria clutched her hands as she swallowed and shook her head, No more momma…my stomach is bad—and she laid her hands on her abdomen and her mother looked at her for a moment, then put the spoon down and opened the container of milk and put the straw in, then held it close enough for Maria to put the straw in her mouth. She took a few sips of milk then leaned back and rested, once again clutching her hands into fists, her mother watching carefully, This tastes better?—smiling—Yes…but it too hurts—once again putting her hands on her abdomen. Perhaps some jello? Maybe…one minute.

  Suddenly there was mumbling from across the room and a voice that was obviously upset though the words were unintelligible. The grandmother got up and walked over to the bed and spoke to the woman in Spanish who looked at her as she continued to reach toward her bed-side table, Caint get the gauddamn piss pot, doan know why they always be puttin it where, O damn this pain—The old woman watched for a moment then started picking up various objects on the table, No…No…damn, how you say piss pot in Spanish—and continued until she picked up the urinal and the woman nodded enthusiastically, Thas it honey, O thank God—quickly putting it under the sheets, You dont fine that we all be in trouble, I be tellin you. The old woman watched the deep sense of relief on the womans face, smiled, then returned to her chair and prayers.

  From time to time Maria would take a few sips of milk or a bite of jello, clenching her hands each time, and everytime she swallowed her mother thanked God for nourishing her baby, asking that the hurt in her stomach be gone so she could eat and feel good and be strong and leave the hospital soon and be home where she could take care of her as she needed, and, from time to time, Maria would laboriously roll her head toward her mother and tell her, It hurts mommy—her voice filled with tears and her mother would nod, Yes, but soon it will go and you will be home—and she rubbed her stomach gently, stopping only to once again offer her a little jello or milk, the painful time seeming immobile to Maria, yet time seeming to go too rapidly for the mother who stiffened each time someone entered the room, afraid it might be a nurse telling her she had to leave. She sighed inwardly when the little container of milk was empty and she
held Marias hands between hers and smiled at her daughter, That was very good. Milk is very healthy—squeezing her daughters hands, Maria feeling exhausted, the pain in her face continually increasing so that she was almost on the verge of tears, I hurt really bad momma—and she started whimpering, It hurts so bad—starting to roll her head back and forth, The fire is starting again…make it stop momma—and once again the tears dropped from the edge of the bandages onto their hands and Marias mother looked at her with an expression and feeling of utter hopelessness, not knowing what to do, who to see, looking around the room panicking, she and the grandmother staring at each other for a moment, Marias crying and sobbing becoming louder, and the woman in the bed next to her asked her what was wrong, You in pain honey? and Maria nodded and squeezed her mothers hands tighter and tighter, Its all burnin—and the tears continued to drop and the woman told her to push the button, The one I showed you, remember? That gets the nurse, at least it supposed to depending whos on. You tell her it hurts. She/ll give you something…go ahead honey—Maria fumbling around for the button—Its a little higher…thats it—finding it and pushing the button, the woman looking at the mother reassuringly, A nursell be here soon an give her something—the mother nodding but still uncertain what was happening knowing only her little girl was in pain and needed help and she squeezed her hands and soon a nurses aide came in and asked what was wrong and Maria tried to talk but the tears drowned out her voice and the aide asked if she was in pain and Maria nodded and again tried to speak but only sobbing moans came from her throat and the aide turned off the call bell, The nursell be in just a minute with somethin—and she left and mother and grandmother looked at each other, once again lost in the mystery of the workings of the hospital and an uncomfortable language and again prayed that soon someone would take their little girls pain away and in time a nurse came in and gave her an injection—the two women watching intently—then left and the women now knew that soon Marias little eyes would stop dropping the tears of pain and would close and she would go to sleep, a sleep far away from pain…for now.