The Willow Tree: A Novel (7 page)

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.

Moishe leaned against the counter and smiled at Bobby, So….You eat, good. How you feel? Sheeit, ah feel like every muthafucka in the Bronx been kickin mah ass…but my belly be comin out mah ears. Thas some fine soup an braid. Ya…is good for everything. Moishe continued smiling at Bobby, then moved away from the counter, So…first we took care of the belly, now the rest already. Jacuzzi make you feel good, all over. What the fuck be that? Jacuzzi???—shrugging—is like a whirlpool…a bath tub where the water spins around—suddenly lifting his head and shoulders in recognition—like in baseball and football…they get hurt they sit in the whirlpool, ya? O yeah, I can dig it. Far out. You got yourself onea those suckers down here? Moishe grinned, Ya.

Moishe took Bobby to a room with a whirlpool bath and a large shower stall with a dozen nozzles. Bobby looked around at everything and shook his head, Man they aint even got things like this in the movies. This be far fuckin out—walking around and looking and shaking his head….

So, Im filling the tub and youre getting undressed. What you mean, undressed? What do I mean undressed, you take a bath with your clothes on already? what do I mean? Hey man, I dont go around nakid in front of no strangers. Stranger….Im a stranger already. So youre afraid maybe Im grabbing your
schwarzer schlung
, its so gorgeous I cant stay away???? Man, sometimes you be runnin off at the mouth an I caint understan nothin. Achh, so sit in the tub with your clothes on—shrugging, shaking his head—naked…stranger—and he turned on the nozzles and the heat, You see this button, it gets too hot you push, the lights going off…so, Im helping you in so you shouldnt slip—extending his hand, Bobby looking at him for a minute, then shrugging, Damn, you got your feelings hurt Mush….I still dont know what I be doin here, but you seem to be a righteous dude—shrugging and looking around as he started unbuttoning his shirt—Where I put these things? Give to me—taking the clothes—Bobby standing awkwardly, self consciously, looking around, almost covering his crotch with his hands—hanging them on hooks across the room. Im helping you in, Bobby letting him hold his hand as he stepped over the side of the tub. Sit…there—nodding toward the seat, Bobby lowering himself slowly, a smile changing his expression, the smile growing into a large open-mouthed grin, Damn, this be far fuckin out Mush…damn—moving his arms slightly, looking at them, his hands, his feet, the whirling water with wonder and amazement—far fuckin out Mush…damn, those muthas get to sit in one a these jus for playin baseball…sheeit, an they gettin paid too—Bobby giggled then laughed loud, Hey baby, this be crazy Mush…damn….

Moishe grinned and just watched Bobby for a moment….Theres a railing….

Yeah, I see it man.

Good. Dont slip. You need me push this already…rings a bell. This turns off heat.

Yeah, I got that one baby, but this be fine. Sheeit, can ya dig havin one a these muthas when your ass be freezin…damn…damn Mushie you be livin in a muthafuckin palace. Aint even no dope dealers be livin this good—and Bobby giggled and laughed and pretended his hand was a boat and skimmed it along the surface of the water.

Moishe continued watching for a moment, then stepped back from the tub, Im doing some work.

Okay my man. I be here gettin my skinny little ass unbruised, Hey Mush, I sit here long enough I get rid of
all
the black n blue—an he laughed so loud and hard he almost slipped off the ledge—Damn, this muthafucka gonna make a gauddamn honky outta me—and he roared again with laughter, shaking his head, tears rolling from his eyes, Caint be the muthafuckin Bronx man—and the laughter continued roaring from him as he sat back, held onto the railing, and allowed himself to almost float around the tub, feeling the warm swirling water relaxing not only his muscles, but his mind, and suddenly all of life…all of the past, and all of the future, and the present was a bright sunny day, and everything was cool and he didnt have to hassle anything, and no one or no things hassled him, and he jus be alone with the warm sun and the fine music he be hearing in his mine, Damn, this be far fuckin out man…far fuckin out….

Bobby was leaning back in the tub, his eyes closed, and smiling through his cuts and bruises when Moishe returned to get him out. He stood by the side with a thick terry cloth robe and turned off the jets.

Hey man, whach you doin?

For today is over.

Ova? I was jus startin to groove behin this thing man.

Too much is not good. Now you have a cold shower and relax. Tomorrow we/ll do it again. Moishe helped Bobby out of the tub, and helped him into the shower stall and turned on the cold water. Bobby almost jumped out of his skin and yelled, Hey, what the fuck you doin man—and Moishe chuckled, Thats how youre getting rid of all the black and blue—and he kept the door closed as Bobby continued yelling and calling him a crazy mutha fucka as all 12 nozzles directed cold water at every part of Bobbys body, and when he thought Bobby had enough he turned off the water and helped him put on the robe, then gently put the hood on his head, So….You tryin to kill me Mush? Damn!

Moishe laughed, You feel good, no? all alive all over, ya?

Yeah man, that be—Moishe laughed loud, Far fucking out, ya?—and he laughed louder and louder and Bobby looked at him and started laughing so hard and loud it hurt but he couldnt stop and both of them were shaking their heads, tears rolling from their eyes, their laughter echoing off the tiled walls, the ceiling, the floor and back up through their feet and into their ears and through their bodies coming out again in bursts of joyous sound, and as they continued laughing they slowly started leaning more and more toward each other and soon Bobby was leaning on Moishe who held him gently until there just wasnt any energy left for laughter but the joy was still there and they tapered off and down with short bursts of laughter and periods of chuckling, snorting and giggling until they were relatively silent and wiping their eyes with their fingers and their noses with the backs of their hands. Bobby was leaning heavily on Moishe and shaking his head, You a crazy muthafucka, I doan even know why Im laughin—which started a new round of laugher which quickly tapered to silence and they sat on the bench, eventually Bobby raising his head and looking around, his awe and wonder obvious, I wish my girl Maria could be here, man she sure be diggin this. Sheeit, I should be lettin her know Im cool, she mus be wonderin where I at and whats happenin.

Soon. You be stronger later. And you not looking so good yet.

Sheeit, that be true. Anyways, sometime I gotta see her.

Moishe smiled tenderly, Ya….

Marias mother and grandmother walked the streets, rode the bus, then climbed the stairs to their apartment. The grandmother collapsed in a chair, O, mother of God, my bones feel like dough, my legs dont want to hold me up—the mother going directly to the kitchen to start cooking food for everyone…herself, the old one, and her children who had stayed with friends, and to start the soup to take to Maria the next day, a strong soup with a good bone and beans, a soup to strengthen her daughter. The grandmother relaxed more and more until she felt as though she were disappearing into the inner parts of the chair, inwardly shaking her head and trying to understand a life that brought her from a small village quietness to the madness of millions of people and tenements, and exhaust fumes that smell like death and burned her eyes and nose. Perhaps tomorrow she would stay home with the children, such a long journey to the hospital…but three little children were even worse than the walking and the ugly monsters breathing smoke in the streets. There seemed to be so few choices left…or it might be that there are none…anywhere. She would walk with ease down the stairs tomorrow, ride the bus and walk through endless roads in the hospital, but sitting all day with the pain….O dear Jesus, Blessed savior Jesus, that is too heavy a burden for these old bones….I am not like you, I cannot bear the sorrows of the world on my shoulders….I do not wear your robe, but sometimes I feel like it is the crown of thorns that sits on my head. You are God and what am I???? I am only an old woman in a strange land filled with much sorrow and pain. O…mother of God, what am I to do? Am I to sit at the foot of the cross and try to take Marias pain??? and my daughters??? is Isabellas pain mine too? I am just old…only old and weary, I am not the mother of God and need to find some rest for bones so much older than those smoking demons. Take my sorrow, dear mother of God, dear Mary, take my sorrow, and that of all of us….

    Here mother—she slowly raised her head and looked at her daughter as she put a cup of coffee on her lap, carefully placing the saucer first, then making certain her mothers hand was steadying the cup—A cup of real coffee will lift your spirits. Raise my spirits?