pulling the door shut behind him. I stare at the rough-hewn wood until I hear his footsteps clatter over top of us. Then I turn around.
Kinko and the dog are staring at me. The dog lifts her lip and snarls. I SPEND THE
NIGHT on a crumpled horse blanket against the
wall, as far from the cot as I can. The blanket is damp. Whoever covered the slats when they turned this into a room did a lousy job, so the blanket's been rained on and reeks of mildew.
I wake with a start. I've scratched my arms and neck raw. I don't know if it's from sleeping on horsehair or vermin and don't want to know. The sky that shows between the patched slats is black, and the train is still moving.
I awoke because of a dream, but I can't recall specifics. I close my eyes, reaching tentatively for the corners of my mind.
It's my mother. She's standing in the yard in a cornflower blue dress hanging laundry on the line. She has wooden clothes pegs in her mouth W a t e r for E l e p h a n ts and more in an apron tied around her waist. Her fingers are busy with a sheer. She's singing quietly in Polish.
Flash.
I'm lying on the floor, looking up at the stripper's dangling breasts. Her nipples, brown and the size of silver dollar pancakes, swing in circles—out and around, SLAP. Out and around, SLAP. I feel a pang of excitement, then remorse, and then nausea.
And then I'm... I'm...
Five
IT 'm blubbering like the ancient fool I am, that's what. II I guess I was asleep. I could have sworn that just a few
_1L seconds ago I was twenty-three, and now here I am in this wretched, desiccated body.
I sniff and wipe my stupid tears, trying to pull myself together because that girl is back, the plump one in pink. She either worked all night or I lost track of a day. I hate not knowing which.
I also wish I could remember her name, but I can't. That's how it is when you're ninety.
Or ninety-three.
"Good morning, Mr. Jankowski," the nurse says, flipping on the light.
She walks to the window and adjusts the horizontal blinds to let in sunlight. "Time to rise and shine."
"What for?" I grumble.
"Because the good Lord has seen fit to bless you with another day," she says, coming to my side. She presses a button on my bedrail. My bed starts to hum. A few seconds later I'm sitting upright. "Besides, you're going to the circus tomorrow."
The circus! So I haven't lost a day.
She pops a disposable cone on a thermometer and sticks it in my ear.
I get poked and prodded like this every morning. I'm like a piece of meat unearthed from the back of the fridge, suspect until proven otherwise. After the thermometer beeps, the nurse flicks the cone into the wastebasket and writes something on my chart. Then she pulls the blood pressure
cuff from the wall.
"So, do you want to have breakfast in the dining room this morning, Water for E l e p h a n ts
or would you like me to bring you something here?" she asks, wrapping the cuff around my arm and inflating it.
"I don't want breakfast."
"Come now, Mr. Jankowski," she says, pressing a stethoscope to the inside of my elbow and watching the gauge. "You've got to keep your strength up."
I try to catch sight of her name tag. "What for? So I can run a marathon?"
"So you don't catch something and miss the circus," she says. After the cuff deflates, she removes the apparatus from my arm and hangs it back on the wall.
Finally! I can see her name.
"I'll have it in here then, Rosemary," I say, thereby proving that I remembered her name.
Keeping up the appearance of having all your marbles is hard work but important.
Anyway, I'm not really addled. I just have
more facts to keep track of than other people.
"I do declare you're as strong as a horse," she says, writing one last thing down before flipping my chart shut. "If you keep your weight up, I'll bet you could go on another ten years."
"Swell," I say.
WHEN ROSEMARY COMES to park me in the hallway, I ask her to take me to the window so I can watch the goings-on at the
Kinko and the dog are staring at me. The dog lifts her lip and snarls. I SPEND THE
NIGHT on a crumpled horse blanket against the
wall, as far from the cot as I can. The blanket is damp. Whoever covered the slats when they turned this into a room did a lousy job, so the blanket's been rained on and reeks of mildew.
I wake with a start. I've scratched my arms and neck raw. I don't know if it's from sleeping on horsehair or vermin and don't want to know. The sky that shows between the patched slats is black, and the train is still moving.
I awoke because of a dream, but I can't recall specifics. I close my eyes, reaching tentatively for the corners of my mind.
It's my mother. She's standing in the yard in a cornflower blue dress hanging laundry on the line. She has wooden clothes pegs in her mouth W a t e r for E l e p h a n ts and more in an apron tied around her waist. Her fingers are busy with a sheer. She's singing quietly in Polish.
Flash.
I'm lying on the floor, looking up at the stripper's dangling breasts. Her nipples, brown and the size of silver dollar pancakes, swing in circles—out and around, SLAP. Out and around, SLAP. I feel a pang of excitement, then remorse, and then nausea.
And then I'm... I'm...
Five
IT 'm blubbering like the ancient fool I am, that's what. II I guess I was asleep. I could have sworn that just a few
_1L seconds ago I was twenty-three, and now here I am in this wretched, desiccated body.
I sniff and wipe my stupid tears, trying to pull myself together because that girl is back, the plump one in pink. She either worked all night or I lost track of a day. I hate not knowing which.
I also wish I could remember her name, but I can't. That's how it is when you're ninety.
Or ninety-three.
"Good morning, Mr. Jankowski," the nurse says, flipping on the light.
She walks to the window and adjusts the horizontal blinds to let in sunlight. "Time to rise and shine."
"What for?" I grumble.
"Because the good Lord has seen fit to bless you with another day," she says, coming to my side. She presses a button on my bedrail. My bed starts to hum. A few seconds later I'm sitting upright. "Besides, you're going to the circus tomorrow."
The circus! So I haven't lost a day.
She pops a disposable cone on a thermometer and sticks it in my ear.
I get poked and prodded like this every morning. I'm like a piece of meat unearthed from the back of the fridge, suspect until proven otherwise. After the thermometer beeps, the nurse flicks the cone into the wastebasket and writes something on my chart. Then she pulls the blood pressure
cuff from the wall.
"So, do you want to have breakfast in the dining room this morning, Water for E l e p h a n ts
or would you like me to bring you something here?" she asks, wrapping the cuff around my arm and inflating it.
"I don't want breakfast."
"Come now, Mr. Jankowski," she says, pressing a stethoscope to the inside of my elbow and watching the gauge. "You've got to keep your strength up."
I try to catch sight of her name tag. "What for? So I can run a marathon?"
"So you don't catch something and miss the circus," she says. After the cuff deflates, she removes the apparatus from my arm and hangs it back on the wall.
Finally! I can see her name.
"I'll have it in here then, Rosemary," I say, thereby proving that I remembered her name.
Keeping up the appearance of having all your marbles is hard work but important.
Anyway, I'm not really addled. I just have
more facts to keep track of than other people.
"I do declare you're as strong as a horse," she says, writing one last thing down before flipping my chart shut. "If you keep your weight up, I'll bet you could go on another ten years."
"Swell," I say.
WHEN ROSEMARY COMES to park me in the hallway, I ask her to take me to the window so I can watch the goings-on at the
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