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Show in my father's house/ 230 "You'll have to stay indoors until it heals," my. mother was saying. "It would be the last straw.if you fell on it again." "How long?" She averted her eyes. "Yourdadtfy says we can't let anyone know you're home or the school will get suspicious. And of course they'd wonder about that thing on your arm, too. It will take about six weeks to heal - then you can go back to school. Six weeks! My mind reeled and I tasted bile. I hated Michael. I was furious with my father. I thought of my mother confined to bed with rheumatic fever. Six weeks without sunlight. My life stretched like a long dark culvert beneath the highway. "Why didn't he take me with him?" My voice was flat. "Oh honey - you wouldn't want to be away from me, would you? Besides, Aunt Helga's things made a full load. She went back because the baby could come anytime." So Aunt Helga had been freed by her fall, while I had been imprisoned by mine. The day was an endless spiral of white light surrounding me as I lay on the bed, weighted by my ugly throbbing arm, captive of the little room where Aunt Helga had spent her days. I fell in and out of delirium, the white curtains turning grey, encircling my throat like grimy gauze, suffocating. As the sun went down my fever ceased. I lay cool and clear-headed, wondering briefly why I had not dreamed of my father. The darkness felt friendly and kind, cloaking my arm, soothing my eyes. Six weeks in this room. No school. No visitors. Only shaded daylight and darkness. And me, alone. I spent a few hours of each day in the living room with the |