Hemingway's Girl (36 page)

Mariella opened her door and went out to him.

The stairs down to the beach were still warm with the sun’s daytime heat, and there
was no breeze for relief. Mariella felt a mosquito on her neck and slapped it. Papa
heard the noise as she approached and turned to the side and nodded at her. She stood
next to him, looking out over the water.

“Can’t sleep?” he said.

She shook her head. “Terrible dreams. You?”

“I can’t manage to fall asleep to even try at nightmares. The moonlight tortures me.”

“Everything is worse at night,” she said.

“It is,” he said. “Don’t trouble about Lulu. We’ll get you back to her.”

“It just must be really bad if my mother sent a telegram.”

“She needs you, Mari. We shouldn’t have taken you for so long.”

“It’s been a great trip. I don’t know if I’ve properly thanked you. You didn’t have
to bring me.”

“I know,” he said. “But I wouldn’t have enjoyed it as much without you.”

He sighed and ran his hands through his hair.

“What is it?” she asked.

“The words are starting to back up, but when I sit down I can’t get them on paper.”

“Once we’re home and you’re back to your routine, they’ll come.”

“What if they don’t?’

“Then you write about Key West and what you do there and see if a story comes from
it.”

“I am tossing a lot of things around in my head for a story about a rumrunner. I’ll
guess I’ll see where that goes.”

“Does it end well?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know if I believe in it.”

“Jesus, Papa, I came out here to feel better. This isn’t helping.”

He chuckled and put his arm around her. “I could love you, Mari.”

A shark surfaced near the shore, its dorsal fin drawing a lazy, wavy line over the
surface of the water. A warm wave broke and washed up around their feet.

“I’m tired of the summer and the heat,” he said suddenly. “Have you ever seen the
change of seasons?”

“No,” said Mariella. “I’ve never lived anywhere but Key West.”

“God, you haven’t lived till you’ve seen the leaves change color up north. I need
to see that this fall. I wish you could see it with me.”

“Someday I’ll see it,” she said. “There’s a lot I want to see. I can’t even imagine
snow.”

“The best part of the snow is the silence. It muffles the world. You’ve never heard
such silence as a nice batch of snow makes.”

Mariella tried to imagine it, but could hear only the whisper of the ocean. She rested
her head on his shoulder and thought that if she’d imagined this scene before her
trip, her heart would have raced. Now she felt only a warm, familial connection to
him. She thought of Jane’s words and fully understood now. And she knew that he’d
be her friend, always.

Key West

The
Pilar
came into the dock with a gasp after the twenty-six-hour trip that began at nearly
midnight the day before. The
Pilar
had needed more work than Papa had anticipated, but he had pushed and sweated all
day with Carlos and Mariella at his side until they got her into shape for the trip.
Pauline said they should wait until the next day to leave, but Papa saw Mariella’s
face and wouldn’t hear of it. He told her to put the boys to bed and they’d wake them
up when it was time to go.

It was time to go at midnight.

The
Pilar
was burning oil fast and would need extensive work when they got home. Papa grew
moody and angry during the trip, and everyone tried to stay away from him the best
they could on the cramped boat. The boys were restless, they were hot, and they all
needed sleep. Mariella was beside herself with worry, and her tension had made the
rest of them uneasy. She also sensed Pauline’s disdain for her and hoped it would
dissipate soon.

Pauline immediately dismissed Mariella when they arrived in Key West. Papa protested
that she shouldn’t be wandering the streets at one o’clock in the morning, but Mariella
was gone before he could win the argument.

She ran through the streets with her bag slapping her side as she went. She felt overjoyed
to be home, but also out of place. For the first time in her life, Mariella felt uneasy
on the streets of Key West. The shacks were covered in shadows. Very few lights burned
in windows. It had the look of an abandoned town, and a chill rose on her arms.

Finally, her house appeared, and she sprinted to it as fast as she could. With her
heart racing and sweat pouring off her, she burst over the lawn and up the ramp that
went to the front door. She looked down and registered that John had, indeed, been
spending some time here, but couldn’t dwell on it in her need to see Lulu.

Mariella dropped her bag by the door and slowed to catch her breath. There was no
one in the front room or the kitchen, and the house was a mess. The curtains were
drawn and the air was stale. Old dishes with dry, crusty food littered the countertop
and table, and dirty clothes lay in limp piles on the floor. The plants in the window
were dead and dried, and the ashtray by her mother’s chair spilled over with cigarette
butts.

Mariella’s heart sank.

She walked to her room and only Estelle was there, sitting on the mattress, rocking
back and forth. Estelle jumped when she saw Mariella, and Mariella crossed the room
and embraced her sister, taking in the sweet smell of her plaited hair.

“I missed you so much,” whispered Mariella. “How’s Lulu?”

Estelle didn’t say anything, but based on her behavior, Lulu wasn’t well. Mariella
eased Estelle down on the mattress and covered her with a blanket. Then she went to
her mother’s room.

It was dark, but Mariella could see Eva kneeling in prayer by the side of the bed.
She mumbled her rosary at the bedside where Lulu lay, her wet, ragged breathing the
only other sound in the house. Eva hadn’t registered Mariella’s presence.

Mariella didn’t want to scare her mother, so she gently touched
her shoulder. Eva jumped and, when she saw Mariella, pulled herself into her daughter’s
arms and sobbed.

“She’s dying,” said Eva. “There’s nothing we can do. The doctor said there’s nothing
we can do.”

Mariella was filled with a surge of anger—at the doctor and at Eva. Mariella pushed
her mother aside and sat on the bed. She put her hands on Lulu’s head. It was burning
hot.

“Why isn’t she in the cold water?” said Mariella. “You’ve got to put her in cold water.”

“She shakes so bad when we do that.”

“It’s the only way. Her body needs help getting her temperature down.”

Mariella stormed past her mother and into the bathroom, where she turned on the cold
water. She went back into the room and tried to gently rouse her sister. Lulu moaned
while Mariella undressed her.

“Get me some ice,” said Mariella. Eva went to the kitchen to chip some.

Mariella carried Lulu into the bathroom and lowered her into the tub. The child screamed
and thrashed when she hit the water, and Mariella blew a sigh of relief. It seemed
good to her that Lulu was so responsive. She tried to calm Lulu and forced her to
sit in the water until she calmed down. Lulu’s eyes opened. They were darkly rimmed
and bloodshot, but they focused on Mariella. She blinked and then a smile flickered
over her lips.

“Mari’s home,” she said, and again closed her eyes. Mariella exhaled a laugh and tears
came to her eyes. Eva walked into the bathroom.

“Did she just say something?” said Eva.

Mariella nodded.

“She hasn’t spoken in days,” said Eva.

When Lulu’s shivering became violent, Mariella lifted her out of the tub and wrapped
her in a towel she found on the floor. It was
still damp from someone else’s use, and she looked at her mother with reproof.

“I’ve been at her side for days,” said Eva. “I didn’t have time for housekeeping.”

Mariella thought from the state of the house that it hadn’t been cleaned or kept for
more than a few days, but she didn’t say anything. She carried Lulu back to her mother’s
room and placed her under the sheets in the bed. She wet a small towel and laid it
over Lulu’s forehead while she spooned ice chips into her mouth. In a few minutes,
Lulu had fallen asleep.

“What exactly did the doctor say?” asked Mariella.

“That there was nothing he could do.”

“That there was nothing
we
could do or nothing
he
could do?”

Eva looked confused. Mariella groaned, aggravated that she had spent days in a state
of agony over Lulu’s well-being when it was the same problem the child always had.
She was frustrated that she had made the Hemingways leave Bimini early and ride twenty-six
hours on a boat in a state of anxiety when the matter wasn’t pressing.

“I’m so sorry, Mariella,” said Eva.

Mariella was too exhausted to fight. She rubbed her temples and shook her head, then
looked at her mother. Eva looked as if she hadn’t showered in days. Her housedress
was soiled and her hair was stringy. Her eyes were dark. Mariella could see the worry
and pain on her mother’s face and was moved with pity. Mariella was used to dealing
with Lulu’s fevers and should have left better instructions for her mother. She also
knew that she was so, so glad to be home, and lunged at her mother with a hug.

“I’m so happy you’re home,” said Eva.

Mariella pulled back and smiled. “Me, too.”

Eva cupped Mariella’s face in her hands. “Island living suits you. Was it a wonderful
trip?”

“It was,” said Mariella. She yawned.

“You must be exhausted,” said Eva. “Let’s go to bed. You sleep here and I’ll sleep
out in my chair. You can tell me all about Bimini tomorrow.”

Mariella didn’t argue. Her fatigue made her dizzy. She went over to the bed and crawled
in beside Lulu. Lulu didn’t feel quite as hot as she did before, but still seemed
warmer than she should be. Mariella listened to the sound of Lulu’s breathing. It
was less ragged, but still didn’t sound healthy. She watched the little girl’s chest
rise and fall and was soon sleeping beside her.

Mariella jerked awake. Something had changed. The room was too quiet. She couldn’t
hear the raspy breathing.

She turned over on the bed to face her sister, terrified at what she’d see.

The light was creeping into the room with the sunrise, but Mariella could see only
Lulu’s outline. She couldn’t hear her breathing. Her arm felt cool against Mariella’s.

Mariella felt the tears hot and fast and started praying, “Oh, God, no, no, no, no,
please, no.”

She reached her hand over and felt under the blanket. She placed her hand over Lulu’s
heart.

And there it was. The soft pounding of her little heart. The gentle rise and fall
of her chest.

The fever had broken.

Mariella uttered a silent prayer of thanks and felt her tears flow faster. She’d never
felt such relief in her life. She waited for them to stop and sat up in bed. She didn’t
want to scare her mother by leaving the room crying. Once she calmed, she crept out
of the room and down the hall to tell her mother the good news.

Eva was in the kitchen frying eggs on the stove, while Estelle set the table. The
dishes were done, the dirty clothes were gone,
and the ashtray had been emptied. Mariella noticed how pretty and grown-up Estelle
had become in such a short time, and she felt relaxed for the first time in days.

Mariella could smell ham crisping in the oven and her stomach growled. Estelle turned
when she heard the floorboards creak under Mariella’s step. She walked to Mariella
and hugged her.

“I’m sorry we didn’t clean sooner,” said Eva. “Gavin didn’t think you’d make it back
until tomorrow, and we didn’t want to disturb Lulu. It really was neat and clean before
she got sick.”

“Stop,” said Mariella. “It’s okay.”

“Gavin’s been fixing things, too,” said Eva.

Mariella was happy to hear that it really hadn’t been messy the whole time she’d been
gone. Her eyes scanned the room, and she saw that someone had built end tables for
the sofa. The screen door that had been torn was repaired.