Free Outside Beauty by Cynthia Kadohata Page A

dad, but I love you all more!” Lakey wailed.
    â€œI can’t live without you,” I wailed.
    â€œI can’t imagine not sleeping in the same bedroom with you!” Marilyn wailed.

    But the really odd, almost spooky thing was that Maddie didn’t cry. I even asked her, “Aren’t you going to cry, Maddie?”
    But instead of crying, she stared at the floor like there was something on the wood she wanted to kill.
    Mack opened the door without knocking. “What are you girls doing? We have to go say good-bye to your mother.” He slammed the door, and we heard him walking away.
    He was smoking as we headed downstairs, and even though I was walking last, I could smell the smoke all around me. Mack exploded when he saw his Cadillac sandwiched between two other cars. “What idiot parks like that!” he cried out. We got in his car, and he banged back and forth against the car in front of us and the car behind us.
    A man ran up to the car and shouted, “That’s my car you’re banging!”
    Mack cried out, “Next time leave a can opener!” And then the car was free, and he screeched forward.
    Someone tooted a horn and Mack bellowed, “What do you want from me, horn blower?!”
    In this fashion, listening to Mack’s tirades against the other drivers on the road, we went to see our mother. When we got there, the nurses let all four ofus in her room at once while Mack waited outside. I was surprised how pale my mother looked, even paler than she had the day before. And the window shade was closed. Marilyn told Mom she looked beautiful, and the words seemed to sink into my mother like water into a sponge. Her face lit up.
    â€œMom, I’ll be visiting you every day,” Marilyn said. “I’ll make Mack bring me.”
    â€œMack is being very helpful. I declare that man does love me,” Mom said.
    It was my turn. “Mom,” I said, “you’re the most beautiful woman I ever saw!”
    She looked a little stricken. Then she cried out, “I’m still the most beautiful?”
    I hesitated between the same two choices I always had: Tell the truth, or tell a lie. “Yes, you still are,” I lied.
    Then Lakey. “Mom, I’ll miss you so much.”
    â€œLakey, my sweet, I’ll miss you. Of course I will!”
    Lastly, Maddie. “Mom? Mommy, when will you be finished with all your surgery?”
    â€œMaddie, it depends how it goes. But soon, honey, soon.”
    As usual, the hospital room smelled of disinfectant. The flat surfaces glistened, but the rug was spotted anddirty. My mother had lifted the head of the bed, so she could sit up for our visit.
    I took my mother’s good hand. “Are you worried?” I asked. She didn’t seem worried, but how could she not be?
    â€œI’m going to miss you girls. I hate this place. It reeks of sickness. I’m not sick. I could count on one hand the number of times I’ve been sick. They need to let me out of here.”
    â€œYou’re hurt, Mom,” I said.
    â€œI don’t want to stay here any longer.”
    â€œMom,” I said. “Mom, you have to stay here. I think they like you to be more cheerful. Like you’ll heal better. Why is the shade closed?”
    â€œI asked the nurse to close it.”
    â€œIt makes it seem more depressing.”
    â€œIt’s depressing with or without the shade open.”
    â€œWell, I’m going to open it.” I pulled the curtains to the side. The street bustled below, people going about their daily lives while our own lives had turned upside down. There was an ice-cream store across the street and a rug store and a deli. And it was true that the sun seemed harsh today, seemed to wash out the colors, seemed to make the world more depressing.
    â€œShe wants it closed,” Marilyn said firmly.

    â€œOkay.” I closed the shade and turned toward the bed. My mother was