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Show in my father's house/ 136 i boulevard in their dark blue uniforms. Perhaps if my father did come, they would arrest him. "No," I blurted. "He won't come. Not ever." I jumped up and ran through the gap in the hedge, into the stucco house. One night, when my mother and Aunt Helga had gone to a movie, I heard clattering and shrieking. I ran to the terrace outside the room I shared with my mother and the baby. In the light of a crescent moon danced hundreds of dark figures bearing torches and bones and wearing masks. They shouted and sang and cried out as they beat each other with whips. Policemen marched alongside the procession. I was terrified, thinking my mother and Aunt Helga had been arrested, and they were coming to get me and the baby. I began to tremble, sobbing quietly, afraid to call for help. Maybe the old grandmother or her family had become suspicious and had told them about us. Why hadn't I listened to Aunt Elsa? I ran to the baby's crib and covered him with a shawl, face and all, then tried to crawl under the bed, but it was built too close to the floor. When I huddled behind the baby's crib, I was visible through the bars. At last I went to the balcony and curled into a ball in the corner. There I shivered, though the night was warm, watching the spectral parade stalk the boulevard for my family. Later, my mother returned and found me asleep on the balcony "Jeannie! What are you doing out here?" |