each of them as their postures sank back, their focus seemed to shift inward again, and one by one they shuffled back toward the house.
“Thanks, Bill,” Dahlia heard a few of them say.
It was the short, stocky woman who noticed Dahlia first and poked Santa hard on the arm and nodded toward the door. He turned, and when he saw Dahlia, he said, “Company,” in a voice that sounded as if he were warning the others. When Sunny looked up to spot Dahlia standing in the doorway, she didn’t seem surprised. In fact, she didn’t react at all, just trudged past Dahlia, making no sign of recognition, and pushed the screen door open to go inside, letting it slam behind her.
“Did you like our choral group?” Santa asked Dahlia. The two of them were the only ones left in the Sea View’s spartan backyard.
“I loved your choral group.”
“We don’t get together very often, and Sunny, she’s my partner. She and I go over to the library and find music, and they let us run it off at a quarter a copy, so it’s not too bad. Then we have fun with it.”
“I could see that,” Dahlia said.
“There’s something about music that nothing else can quite equal,” Santa said as he and Dahlia moved into the house, where she could see some of the others filling the chairs that were parked in front of the TV. But Sunny wasn’t one of that group. The medicine man was nowhere in sight to stop her, so Dahlia decided to make her way upstairs.
The upstairs hallway smelled of Old Spice aftershave, and a door was open, revealing a messy bathroom with towels on the floor. Most of the doors were closed, but at the end of the hall there was one more open door, and Dahlia approached it. Through the door she could see Sunny sitting on the fuchsia chenille bedspread playing solitaire. Dahlia watched her from a few feet away and saw Sunny’s brow furrow as she moved the cards from one row to another. “Sunny?” Dahlia said softly, and Sunny looked up blankly, as if she’d expected to see Dahlia there. As if she’d known all along someone was standing there watching her.
“I came to say good-bye,” Dahlia said. “And I was so glad I got to hear the choral group. You’re all wonderful.”
“Yeah,” Sunny said, returning her attention to the cards as she continued the game. Red six on black seven. Black four on red five.
“I remember you taught me how to play solitaire when I was seven,” Dahlia said, hearing her voice sound as tinny and hollow and insecure as it had with Marty Melman’s receptionist. It was that shaky sound, the one that said, You have something I need, so I’m nervous when I’m around you. How could she have that feeling with her own cousin, a mental patient?
“Now I play solitaire on the computer. With virtual cards. My boyfriend’s addicted to it,” Dahlia went on as she walked to the window in Sunny’s room to look down at the van, praying Seth was back and she would have a reason to say a quick good-bye, bolt out of there, and head home. But the street was empty, and Seth wasn’t anywhere in sight. “If you want to see the computer, I can run down and get it and bring it back.”
Sunny nodded. “I want to,” she said, sounding like a child.
“Don’t move,” Dahlia said, and she raced down thestairs to the front door. The others all sat zoned out again, staring at the TV. At the van Dahlia climbed into the way-back where Seth had piled the computer on top of their duffel bags. Then she looked up at the Sea View, and when her eyes traveled to the second-story windows, she saw Sunny in one of them looking down at her. She grabbed the computer, held it up to show Sunny, and made her way back into the house and up again to Sunny’s room.
“Here it is,” Dahlia said, coming breathlessly into the room and setting the computer down on Sunny’s bed. “You see, the reason I have that van is because I’m a masseuse,” she continued, opening the computer and turning it on. Sunny was deadpan.
“Thanks, Bill,” Dahlia heard a few of them say.
It was the short, stocky woman who noticed Dahlia first and poked Santa hard on the arm and nodded toward the door. He turned, and when he saw Dahlia, he said, “Company,” in a voice that sounded as if he were warning the others. When Sunny looked up to spot Dahlia standing in the doorway, she didn’t seem surprised. In fact, she didn’t react at all, just trudged past Dahlia, making no sign of recognition, and pushed the screen door open to go inside, letting it slam behind her.
“Did you like our choral group?” Santa asked Dahlia. The two of them were the only ones left in the Sea View’s spartan backyard.
“I loved your choral group.”
“We don’t get together very often, and Sunny, she’s my partner. She and I go over to the library and find music, and they let us run it off at a quarter a copy, so it’s not too bad. Then we have fun with it.”
“I could see that,” Dahlia said.
“There’s something about music that nothing else can quite equal,” Santa said as he and Dahlia moved into the house, where she could see some of the others filling the chairs that were parked in front of the TV. But Sunny wasn’t one of that group. The medicine man was nowhere in sight to stop her, so Dahlia decided to make her way upstairs.
The upstairs hallway smelled of Old Spice aftershave, and a door was open, revealing a messy bathroom with towels on the floor. Most of the doors were closed, but at the end of the hall there was one more open door, and Dahlia approached it. Through the door she could see Sunny sitting on the fuchsia chenille bedspread playing solitaire. Dahlia watched her from a few feet away and saw Sunny’s brow furrow as she moved the cards from one row to another. “Sunny?” Dahlia said softly, and Sunny looked up blankly, as if she’d expected to see Dahlia there. As if she’d known all along someone was standing there watching her.
“I came to say good-bye,” Dahlia said. “And I was so glad I got to hear the choral group. You’re all wonderful.”
“Yeah,” Sunny said, returning her attention to the cards as she continued the game. Red six on black seven. Black four on red five.
“I remember you taught me how to play solitaire when I was seven,” Dahlia said, hearing her voice sound as tinny and hollow and insecure as it had with Marty Melman’s receptionist. It was that shaky sound, the one that said, You have something I need, so I’m nervous when I’m around you. How could she have that feeling with her own cousin, a mental patient?
“Now I play solitaire on the computer. With virtual cards. My boyfriend’s addicted to it,” Dahlia went on as she walked to the window in Sunny’s room to look down at the van, praying Seth was back and she would have a reason to say a quick good-bye, bolt out of there, and head home. But the street was empty, and Seth wasn’t anywhere in sight. “If you want to see the computer, I can run down and get it and bring it back.”
Sunny nodded. “I want to,” she said, sounding like a child.
“Don’t move,” Dahlia said, and she raced down thestairs to the front door. The others all sat zoned out again, staring at the TV. At the van Dahlia climbed into the way-back where Seth had piled the computer on top of their duffel bags. Then she looked up at the Sea View, and when her eyes traveled to the second-story windows, she saw Sunny in one of them looking down at her. She grabbed the computer, held it up to show Sunny, and made her way back into the house and up again to Sunny’s room.
“Here it is,” Dahlia said, coming breathlessly into the room and setting the computer down on Sunny’s bed. “You see, the reason I have that van is because I’m a masseuse,” she continued, opening the computer and turning it on. Sunny was deadpan.
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