The Willow Tree: A Novel (6 page)

Maria survived her first night in the hospital, her first night away from home.

Bobby wakened late in the morning, groggy and confused for a moment, then remembered what had happened and where he was. He realized, after a short time, that he had been laying in bed listening and wondering what was missing, then chuckled silently as he realized he was laying there listening for the scratching of the rats, but Mushie didn have no rats in his wall. Mus be plenty a rats down here, but caint nothin get in here. Sheeit, this be like a fortress an aint nobody knowin this be here…wonder why he livin down here? Crazy ol fool…but sure be a cool pad but it mus be he into somethin…I bes be gettin outta here just as soon as I can—trying to get up and falling back on the bed, every square inch of his body screaming with pain, blinking his eyes to help catch his breath, Sheeit, what the fuck be goin on, seem like everythin feels worse—checking out the different parts of his body by moving, contracting a muscle, touching…then slowly sitting up and looking at his hands and arms and then the rest of his body—like the ol fool say, I be black n blue but you caint notice the black—and he started to giggle but stopped and laid back down—what the fuck I be laughin at, I be hurtin…but I think about that crazy ol fool an I laugh…now what the fuck that be all about. Mus be his craziness rub off on me—Bobby smiled and slowly raised his arms and reached over his head and tapped the wall and smiled broader when there was no response. He was slowly lowering his arms when Moishe came into the room.

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.