Free The Hunchback of Neiman Marcus by Sonya Sones Page B

PAINTS THE PARKING LOT PINK
    While I paint
    my mother’s fingernails and toes.
    Then, out of the blue, she says,
    â€œThat Dr. Hack was a real hunk.
    But he had the most god-awful chuckle,
    didn’t he?”
    It takes me
    a few minutes
    to stop laughing.
    Then my mother says,
    â€œDid you bring any photos of…of…”
    She pauses, trying to remember.
    â€œOf…Sabrina?” she finally says.
    â€œYou mean Samantha?” I say.
    â€œThat’s what I said,” she murmurs.
    So I pull out my recent favorite shot—
    taken in the backyard
    just before Sam left for college.
    â€œLook at those eyes!” she says.
    â€œI swear—one glance from that child
    could turn winter into spring…”
    But then she peers more closely at the picture,
    furrows her brows, and asks,
    â€œWhy does your pepper tree look so bare?”
    My pepper tree…?
    A jolting emptiness fills my chest.
    â€œOh, Mom…” I say, my voice cracking.
    â€œWhat is it, dear? What’s the matter?”
    She reaches over to circle me with her frail arms.
    â€œIt got sick, Mom. We had to cut it down…”
    Tears well up in my eyes.
    â€œThat must have been hard for you,” she says.
    â€œIt was,” I say. “It was so hard…”
    My mother pats my back,
    rocks me,
    lets me cry.
    When I finally quiet, she says,
    â€œYou need to go home now, Holly.
    Go home to Michael and plant a new tree.”
    And, of course,
    she is exactly
    right.

THE NEXT MORNING
    I stop in to see Dr. Gold, before
    heading down the hall to see my mother.
    He sits behind his desk—
    his eyes as merry as Christmas.
    He tells me that after just one shock treatment
    not only has my mother’s appetite returned,
    but the physical therapist says she was finally
    willing to participate in rehab this morning.
    He says he’s confident
    that with just a half dozen more treatments
    and maybe a month or two of rehab,
    he’ll be able to send my mother home.
    â€œHow can I ever thank you?” I say.
    Dr. Gold smiles at me and says,
    â€œJust send me a batch
    of Samantha’s brownies.”
    And, as if on cue,
    my cell phone rings,
    and Samantha’s name
    appears on the screen.
    I hold up the phone to show the doctor.
    He raises an eyebrow and says,
    â€œI hope it was her ears that were burning.
    Not her brownies!”
    And when he begins chuckling
    at his own little joke,
    I’m struck by the lovely, quiet sound of it—
    like water flowing over smooth stones.

I STEP OUTSIDE TO TAKE THE CALL
    Samantha says
    she’s walking though the quad
    looking up at the bell tower,
    and that it looks
    exactly like a postcard
    of how a college should look.
    And just then,
    the bells begin to ring—
    great booming, echoing, peals of them.
    She laughs and says,
    â€œAnd it sounds exactly like
    a college should sound!”
    She says the leaves are falling.
    She says the air is frosty.
    She says, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
    She tells me
    she can’t believe
    how lucky she is.
    And I tell her
    I can’t believe
    how lucky I am.

AS SOON AS WE SAY GOOD-BYE
    My phone rings again.
    I check the number
    and see that— shit! —it’s Roxie.
    I let it go to voice mail.
    But a second later,
    it rings again.
    And this time it’s Alice,
    sounding oddly breathless.
    â€œOh, Holly,” she says,
    â€œI’m so glad you picked up.”
    And right away, I know
    that something is very wrong.
    â€œAlice,” I say. “What’s the matter?”
    â€œIt’s…it’s Michael. I’m sure he’s
    going to be totally fine, but Noah and I
    just drove him to the emergency room.”
    An orderly brushes past me,
    pushing someone lying on a table—
    someone entirely covered with a sheet…
    My knees begin to quake.
    â€œOh my God, Alice. What’s wrong with him?”
    She tells me that they aren’t sure yet,
    but that