Free Skylight Confessions by Alice Hoffman Page A

toward Cynthia's house. He thought she wouldn't know because he was now sleeping in the den, but she knew. She rarely left her room now so John must have felt safe to seek comfort next door. The last walk Arlie had taken was the one when she collapsed; Cynthia had stood in the street screaming for help and an oil truck pulled over. The driver was a heavyset man who had carried Arlie home.
    "You must be one of those flying men from Connecticut," Arlie had told him.
    His wings were probably huge.
    "In my truck I surely do fly." The oil man's own mother had recently died. Although he was a tough, no-bullshit guy, he didn't seem that way now. "Just don't tell the police and get me arrested."
    "I won't," Arlie assured him.
    After that, John had hired a nurse whose name was Jasmine Carter. Jasmine gave Arlie her medicines and helped her bathe and dress. Jasmine took care of Arlie, and Diana Moody came up to take care of the children. Arlie still made sure to hold her daughter close at least once a day; every night she read to Sam, and when she couldn't see the words anymore, he read to her.
    "Do you hate me without my hair?" she asked Sam one night. It used to be that they would read in his room and he'd be the one in bed. Now it was reversed, but they never mentioned that.
    "I like you better this way," Sam said. "You're like a baby bird."
    "Chirp chirp," Arlyn said.
    Sometimes, when her hands were shaking, Arlie needed help in order to eat. She felt like a bird. She tried to hide her decline from Sam, but it wasn't easy. Arlyn didn't care what anyone said about Sam. He knew things other children did not. Certainly, he knew what was happening now. He held a glass of water so she could sip from a straw. When she was done, he put the glass on a woven coaster so it wouldn't leave a ring on the night table.
    "Sometime soon you're going to take my pearls and put them in a special treasure box that I have," Arlie said. "They're for your sister."
    "What do I get?" Sam wanted to know.
    "You had me all to yourself for six years," Arlie said. "Maybe we'll get to seven."
    "Or eight or nine or ten or a thousand."
    It felt like a thousand years already. It was as though she had used up all her time, but was still hanging on. She could not stand the noise outside, the men shouting as they poured cement, the clicking as the tiles were put in, aquamarine-colored tiles from Italy; John had ordered them straight from the factory outside Florence, that's how good his Italian was now. He had sat beside Arlie's bed and showed her the catalogs of tiles. Sky blue, azure, turquoise, midnight. Turchese. Cobalto. Azzurro di cielo. Azzurro di mezzanotte. She'd fallen asleep in the middle of the conversation, and in the end John chose the tiles he liked best.
    George Snow didn't know about Arlie until one afternoon when he happened to meet up with his brother at a bar in New Haven.
    George was having a late lunch, a cheeseburger and a beer. He wanted to be left alone, but Steven came to sit beside him. Right away, as though they hadn't stopped talking to each other months ago, Steve spoke of the man who was responsible for their failed business and their nonexistent relationship, though he'd sworn he'd never say the name aloud.
    "That bastard Moody is putting in the swimming pool to end all swimming pools. And with her in the middle of dying."
    George Snow would forever after remember that he had just put down his glass when he heard the news. His brother went on speaking, but George didn't hear a word. He heard only about her.
    "Are you talking about Arlyn?"
    Steve realized what he'd blundered into. "She's sick, man. I thought you knew. I just wanted to tell you how sorry I was."
    George threw some money on the bar and went for the door.
    His brother called, and when George kept on going, Steven followed him into the parking lot.
    "Seriously, George, she's not your wife and it's not your business.
    They went ahead and had another kid, didn't they?"
    "When