“Hello,” the young woman said.
“Hi.” I gave her just a glance.
“My name is Candice.” She held out a hand.
It would have been impolite for me to ignore her gesture of friendship.
“Easy Rawlins.”
“Do you fly often, Mr. Rawlins?”
“Every now and then. My girlfriend’s a stewardess for Air France.”
“I don’t. This is only my second flight and I’m scared to death.”
She wouldn’t let go of my hand. I squeezed and said, “We’ll make it through this one together.”
We held hands through the takeoff and for five minutes into the ascent. Every now and then she increased the pressure. I matched the force of her grip. By the time we were at full alti-tude she had calmed down.
“Thank you,” she said.
“No problem.”
I picked up the paper again but the words scrambled away from my line of vision. I was thinking about Dream Dog and 1 1 7
W a lt e r M o s l e y
karma, then about Axel Bowers and the humiliating treatment he’d received after his death. I thought about that white girl who just needed somebody to hold on to regardless of his color.
Maybe the hippies were right, I thought. Maybe we should all go outside in our underwear and protest the way of the world.
t h e y o u n g w o m a n and I didn’t speak another word to each other. There was no need to.
When I got out of the gate in L.A., Jesus was there waiting for me.
“Hi, Dad,” he said and shook my hand.
He’d driven my car to the airport and I let him drive going back home. He took La Cienega where I would have taken the freeway but that was okay by me.
“Feather had fever again this morning,” he said. “Bonnie gave her Mama Jo’s medicine and it came down.”
“Good,” I said, trying to hide my fear.
“Is she gonna die, Dad?”
“Why you say that?”
“Bonnie told Benny why she had to stay and look after Feather and Benny told me. Is she gonna die?”
There never was a brother and sister closer than Jesus and Feather. I had taken him out of a bad situation when he was an infant, and when I brought Feather into our home he took to her like a mother hen.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe.”
“But if Bonnie takes her to Switzerland they might save her?”
“Yeah. They saved other people with infections like hers.”
“Do you want me to go with them?”
“No. The doctors can help. What I need is the money to pay those doctors.”
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“I could sell my boat.”
That boat was everything to Jesus.
“No, son. I think I got a line on a moneymaker. It’s gonna be okay.”
I had planned to talk to him about Benita and the difference in their ages. But when he offered to give his boat up for Feather I couldn’t imagine what there was I had to tell him.
b o n n i e h a d p a c k e d
a large traveling suitcase for Feather.
It seemed as if she’d taken every toy, doll, dress, and book that Feather owned. When I got there they were ready to go to the airport.
There was a bright chrome and red canvas wheelchair in the living room.
Bonnie came out and kissed me, and even though I tried to put some tenderness into the caress she leaned away and gave me an odd stare.
“What’s wrong?”
“If I was to tell you the things I’d seen in the last two days you wouldn’t be asking me that,” I said truthfully.
Bonnie nodded, still frowning.
“Could you put the suitcase into the trunk?” she asked. “The wheelchair folds up and can go on top.”
