Forgive Me. Amanda Eyre Ward

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СКАЧАТЬ the twins were born, Nadine and Lily still wrote and called constantly, reveling in the differences between their lives. But something changed after Lily’s frightening childbirth. The babies were early and sickly, and Nadine–traveling with the Zapatistas–couldn’t make it home in time to help out. By the time Nadine visited, Lily had already become someone else. She wasn’t interested in Nadine’s stories or the La Reliquia mezcal Nadine had brought from Mexico. Nadine spent the weekend cold and miserable, trying to feign interest in Bo and Babes sleeping patterns and weight percentiles. There was a new alliance between Lily and Dennis, too. Where once Lily had laughed about his dream of a McMansion and six kids, now she seemed to have bought in hook, line, and sinker, showing off her mini van and giant TV. Was Lily happy? Nadine couldn’t bear to believe it. She drank the mezcal herself on the bus back to Logan and made out with the man next to her on the flight to Mexico City, fondling him under the thin polyester blanket.

      Nadine missed the Moleskine notebooks.

      She bought a pack of Merits and made her way back to the Sandy Toes, jumping when she heard a loud rapping sound. It was someone inside The Captain Kidd, pounding at the window to get her attention: Dr. Duarte. He came outside wearing a yellow T-shirt with a salmon printed on it, his arms folded across his broad chest. “Nadine,” he said, “what are you doing out here?”

      “I could ask you the same.”

      He nodded quickly, his cheeks turning red from the cold. When he spoke, his words were frosted. “Left my coat inside,” he said. “Nadine, I’m serious. You need to be in bed.”

      “You’d have to buy me dinner first.”

      He looked bewildered. “It’s a joke,” said Nadine. “I’m sorry. I’m going back right now. I just needed–”

      “Some cigarettes?”

      Nadine looked down at the pack, visible through the plastic bag.

      “Anyway,” said Dr. Duarte. “Please go home, Nadine. I don’t need a dead woman on my conscience.”

      “Jesus,” said Nadine. “I’m not that bad off. I’m headed back to Mexico next week.”

      “The hell you are,” said Dr. Duarte.

      “I want a second opinion.”

      “All right,” said Dr. Duarte. “You need to lie down and eat. Go home and get in bed. I’ll bring you some fried clams in an hour.”

      Nadine blinked.

      “Onion rings or fries?” said Dr. Duarte.

      “I don’t–”

      “Its freezing, Nadine. Give me an answer.”

      “Onion rings.”

      “Fine,” said Dr. Duarte. “See you soon.” He raised his bushy eyebrows and smiled, then darted back into The Captain Kidd.

      At the front desk, a package from La Hacienda Solita waited. Inside, Nadine found her dirty backpack. She sat on the floor and emptied the pack with her right hand: rubber sandals; Pepto-Bismol and antibiotic tablets; three tamarind candies; a roll of toilet paper; condoms; a jar of Nescafé (when coffee was hard to find, she stuck her finger in the jar and sucked the crystals off); a Nalgene bottle; a headlamp; a Swiss Army knife; three lined notebooks; two Bic pens; an envelope of tobacco; and a tin of rolling papers.

      And taped inside a composition notebook, the photograph of her mother, Ann, sitting on Nobska Beach. Even when she was sick, Ann had loved hiking to the lighthouse with a picnic dinner. She wrapped a warm blanket around her diminishing frame, a Red Sox cap covering her bald head. They would walk at sunset, the sky rippled with color. “I’ve never been outside New England,” Ann told six-year-old Nadine, “but there can’t be anywhere more beautiful than this.”

      In the photo, Ann was young and healthy. Her black hair was tucked behind her ears, and her hand shaded her violet eyes. She wore a green bikini and smiled at Jim, who was taking the picture. Ann’s stomach was slightly rounded with baby Nadine.

      “Knock, knock,” said Dr. Duarte, rapping on the door to Room 9.

      “Oh, hi,” said Nadine.

      “Why’s there trash in the middle of your room?”

      “That’s not trash,” said Nadine. “It’s all my worldly possessions.”

      “Oh,” said Dr. Duarte, “wow. I’m sorry.”

      “It’s a reasonable mistake,” said Nadine, easing into bed.

      “It really looks like trash,” said Dr. Duarte, taking a Styrofoam container from a paper bag. The smell of onion rings filled the room. “They were out of clams, so I got you a scrod sandwich.”

      “Fried seafood. What kind of a doctor are you?”

      “Believe me,” said Dr. Duarte. “Fried seafood is nothing compared with an amputated arm.”

      “Come on,” said Nadine. “It doesn’t even hurt that much.”

      “You’re on Demerol.”

      “Right.”

      “Eat your sandwich,” said Dr. Duarte.

      “Speaking of Demerol,” said Nadine, biting into the soft Portuguese roll, savoring the hot fish, the melted cheddar cheese.

      “No,” said Dr. Duarte. He sat on a chair in the corner of the room and turned on the television with the remote control.

      “You don’t even–” said Nadine, wiping her lips with a napkin.

      “Yes I do,” said Dr. Duarte. “You want some extra Demerol to add to your–” He gestured to the backpack. “–your worldly possessions.”

      “But what if my wrist starts to hurt in the middle of the Sierra Madres?”

      “Stop showing off,” said Dr. Duarte. “We’ll talk about it when you’ve sat in that bed for a while longer.”

      “Right,” said Nadine. “By the way, this is fantastic.”

      Dr. Duarte cracked open a bottle of beer. “You think I’m kidding,” he said. “Next time I come, Nadine, I’m bringing an X-ray of your arm. Haven’t you ever read A Separate Peace?”

      “The boarding school book?”

      “Phinneas dies,” said Dr. Duarte, pouring into a glass. “He dies of a broken bone.”

      Nadine dipped an onion ring in ketchup. “Dr. Duarte, how about a beer?”

      “You can call me Hank. And no, no beer for you. I got you an iced tea.” Hank handed Nadine the bottle, then settled back into his chair.

      “What kind of beer is that, anyway?” said Nadine. “Looks delicious.”

      “It’s my favorite, Whale’s Tail. They make it on Nantucket. Ever been to Nantucket?”

      “No,” СКАЧАТЬ