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Show Moon -138 He got up and began pacing the room, swirling the ice cubes in his glass. "Your mother," he said, "finally agreed to see a doctor last week. She went into the hospital for tests." He paused, took a gulp from the glass. "Your mother," he said, "has multiple sclerosis." I looked at these words, which were red, like sandstone, and saw them slide down into a tumbled sort of coherence like rocks lying just so among the other rocks on a hillside. I remembered your letter about falling down at the Embassy in Manila, thought back to your numb hands so long ago, to the reunion after Germany where the air was heavy with things unsaid. I remembered your saying once, "Perhaps I'm losing my mind." "You knew a long time ago," I said to James, hearing my voice grow harsh. "You wrote to Ruth or maybe Michael when we came back from Germany. You wouldn't tell me much. Didn't you talk to Mom about it?" James shook his head impatiently. "It wasn't definite then. The doctor said it was only a possibility. I shouldn't have written them. And then your mother went back to that silly religion." With a wave of his hand he dismissed Father- Mother God, brushed blame away from himself like a swarm of gnats. I stood up then, anger at him and at myself pressing into my chest like a sudden jab. "Now you've told her?" He stopped pacing and looked surprised. "Why, no." "Why not?" "She couldn't take it." I felt such a flare of rage that for the first time in my life, I wasn't afraid of this cold-eyed man. "That's bullshit." |