BARBARA GRIZZUTI HARRISON
415
From the window next to the old man's bed there was a view of
tenements and backyards, laundry flapping in the wind. Black
smoke billowed in the far distance. Clara saw fire engines tiny as a
child's toys. Where are the flames? Clara wondered. "Where there's
smoke, there's fire," she said out loud. "Now, now," the nurse-who
was removing the old man's contact lenses with a tiny rubber suction
cup- said . The old man was wearing a light-blue hospital gown ;
paper slippers were placed neatly at the foot of his bed. Like that
painting of Saint Ursula in Venice: slippers near her bed while the
angel trumpets and she sleeps, the slippers so obdurately them–
selves. The physical world doesn't change at all, how odd, Clara
thought. Nothing shares our grief.
Clara and her brother held hands. "Are you frightened,
Daddy?" Clara said. "What a question," her mother said. The old
man raised his left arm and made a clenched fist. They all looked to
see for whom the salute was intended, all but Clara's brother, who
said, "It's all right, Old Man, your heart's okay," which was not true.
Clara felt an accustomed jealousy; how like her brother to under–
stand their father so well, how unfair. How kind. In a spasm of at–
tention, the old man sought his grandson's eyes: "Doing your home–
work?" he said. "Yes, Grandpa," Clara's son said. The boy's left leg
was shorter because of the skiing accident; only Clara ever seemed to
notice. "Good," the old man said, after which he subsided into ran–
dom tremors and said no more . His daughter-in-law rearranged the
flowers in the vases. Clara's daughter cradled and kissed the old
man's forehead, crooning, "Grandpa." "Now wash your hands," her
grandmother said. Clara always called her father
Daddy;
she called
her mother
Mother,
although she'd always wanted Clara to call her
Sadie. "No, Nana," the child replied, "I won't."
"I want to talk about money," Sadie said. "Not in the room with
Daddy," Clara said. "Not now, Ma," her brother said. "You're a
good girl," the old man said; it was not clear for whom his words
were intended.
Riding home in the car they passed Sunset Park. "Remember
when we used to swim here?" Clara said. "Yeah," her brother said;
"you were always scared some jiggerboo would drown you ."
"My friend Marie got raped here last year," Clara said ; "She
was on her way to the daycare center."
"Don't talk about things like that," Sadie said . "I'm sensitive . It
hurts me."
"It
hurt Marie a lot more," Clara said.
