Blood Test by Kellerman, Jonathan

meat.”

“I’m a cunt!” she screamed and tore at her hair,

ripplingloose the long ginger tendrils.

“Nona–”

She shuddered with self-loathing, sculpted her

hands into quivering hooks. But this time they were

aimed at her own flesh, inches from ripping open

that exquisite face.

I grabbed her and held her tight. She fought me.,

cursing, then exploded into sobs. She seemed to

curl up and diminish in .size, .crying on my shoulder.

When the tears wouldn’t come anymore, she

collapsed aainst my chest, mute and limp.

I carried her to a chair, sat her down, wiped her

face with a tissue and pressed another against my

cheek. Most of the bleeding had stopped. I retrieved

the knife and tossed it in the sink.

She was staring at the table. I cupped her chin in

my hand. The inky eyes were glazed and unfocused.

“Where’s Woody?”

“Back there,” she said dully. “Sleeping.”

“Show me.”

She rose unsteadily. A shredded plastic shower

curtain divided the trailer. I guided her through it.

The back room was sruff’y and dim and furnished

with thrift shop remnants. The walls were paneled

with fake birch, scarred white. A filling station

calendar hung lopsided from a roofing nail. Digital

time beamed forth from a plastic clock radio atop a

plastic Parsons table. On the floor was a pile of

teen magazines. A blue velveteen sleeper sofa had

been opened to a queen-size bed.

Woody slept under faded paisley covers, coppery

curls spreading on the pillow. On the adjacent ght-

BLOOD TEST 299

stand were comic books, a toy truck,.an uneaten

apple, a botde of pills. Vitamins.

His breathing was regular but labored, hi.s lips

swollen and dry. I touched his cheek.

“He’s very hot,” I told her,

“It’ll break,” she said defensively. “I’ve been giv-

ing him vitamin C for it.”

“Has it helped yet?”

She-looked away and shook her head.

-“He needs to be in a hospital, Nona.”

“Nol” She bent down, took his small head in her

arms. Pressed her cheek to his and kissed his eyelids.

He smiled in his sleep.

‘Tm going to call an ambulance.”

ne”

“There’s no pno , she proclaimed with child-

ish triumph. “Go leave to find one. We’ll be gone

when you get back.”

“He’s very sick,” I said patiently. “Every hour

we delay puts him in greater danger. We’ll go to-

ad”

gether, in my car. Get your things re y.

“They’ll hurt him[” she screamed. “Just like before.

Sticking needles in his bones! Putting him in

that plastic jail!”

“Listen to me, Nona. He has cancer. He couldrdie

from it.”

She turned away.

“I don’t believe it.”

I held her shoulders.

.”You’d better. It’s true.”

“Why? Cause that beaner doctor said so? He’s

just like all the others. Can’t be trusted.” She cocked

her hip the way she’d done ‘m the hospital corridor.

“Why should it be cancer? He never smoked or

polluted himself! He’s just a little kid.”

“Kids get cancer, too. Thousands of them each

300 Jonathan Kel ‘lerman

year. No one knows why but they do. Almost all of

them can be treated and some can be cured. Woody’s

one of them. Give him a chance.”

She frowned stubbornly.

“They were poisoning him in that p’laee.”

“You need strong drugs to kill the disease. I’m

not saying it’ll be painless but medical treatment’s

the only thing that can save his life.”

“S’that what the beaner told you to tell me?”

“No. It’s what I’m telling you myself. You don’t

have to go back to Dr. Melendez-Lynch. We’ll find

another specialist. In San Diego.”

The boy cried out in his sleep. She ran to him,

sang a low, wordless lullaby, and stroked his hair.

He quieted,

She rocked him in her arms. A child cradling a

child. The flawless features trembled on the brink

of collapse. The tears started again, in a torrent

that streamed down her face.

“If we go to a hospital they’ll take him away from

me. I can take care of him best right here.”

“Nona,” I said, summoning all my compassion,

“there are things even a mother can’t do.”

The rocking ceased for’a moment, then resumed.

“I was at your parents’ house tonight. I saw the

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