Unspeakable

Beale lifted Casper up in her arms. His wrists and his ankles were as thin as wooden spoons. 'Keep your nose out, okay?I'mtaking care of him. Nobody else can take care of him the way I can.'

'Mrs. Beale, I'm going to come inside and I'm going to talk to Casper. I insist.'

'Shove off, will you?'

'Mrs. Beale, you don't have any choice. If you try to stop me from talking to Casper, Iwillcall the police.'

Holly had to wait in the living room while Mrs. Beale changed Casper's pajamas. It was airless and stuffy and grotesquely overfurnished with Louis XIV-style armchairs and glass-topped wine tables and crushed-velour cushions. One side of the room was dominated by a forty-inch plasma-screen TV with a home movie center; the other by a glass-fronted liquor cabinet that was crowded with bottles of bourbon and brandy and amaretto. On the wall, in a lavish gilded frame, hung a blown-up color photograph of Mrs. Beale at Disneyland with Thomas and Kyra and Goofy. No sign of Casper.

Thomas and Kyra loitered in the living- room doorway, staring at Holly with those poisonous-pudding looks on their faces. It occurred to Holly that they probably weren't allowed into the room itself. There were too many breakable statuettes and fragile knick-knacks and simulated-crystal souvenirs. On one table, on a little lace doily of its own, stood a snowstorm of Las Vegas, complete with Eiffel Tower.

Mrs. Beale reappeared carrying Casper in her arms. She propped him in one of the armchairs and sniffed her fingers. 'Nothing worse than puke,' she said.

She had knotted a red spotted scarf around Casper's head and changed him into faded red pajamas. He sat with his head resting against one of the cushions, staring at Holly unblinkingly. Holly shifted herself closer to him and took hold of one of his chilly little hands. He still smelled of vomit.

'Casper, my name's Holly. I've come by today to say hello and to make sure that you're okay.'

'I'm okay,' Casper whispered.

'I heard that you were kicking up kind of a fuss this morning.'

'It was something and nothing,' Mrs. Beale put in. 'What do you expect when a kid's as sick as that? He doesn't understand that he has to get sicker to get better.'

'I'm not going to get better,' Casper said, and coughed.

'Of course you're going to get better,' said Mrs. Beale. 'Before you know it you'll be playing outside with Thomas and Kyra.'

'I've heard you talking on the phone,' Casper insisted.

'Casper, little boys who listen to other people's conversations will go to hell, I'm telling you that, as sure as eggs is chickens.'

Casper rolled his eyes toward Holly and feebly squeezed her hand. 'I'm going to die,' he assured her. He was so certain, so calm, that Holly felt a painful constriction in her throat. 'I'm not scared. Sometimes I wish that I could go to sleep and never wake up.'

Afterward, out on the porch, Holly said, 'Mrs. Beale, you have to give me the name of Casper's doctor.'

Mrs. Beale kept pulling at her gold chain necklaces, over and over, as if she were trying to saw her head off. 'Dr. Ferdinand, that's his doctor.'

'Dr. Ferdinand? Okay, where?'

'What do you mean,where?'

'I mean which clinic-which hospital?'

'East Portland Memorial, the children's cancer clinic.'

'You have a number?'

'Go find it yourself. I have to go back to Casper.'

'Okay, thanks for your help.'

Mrs. Beale blinked at her aggressively. 'What's that, 'Thanks for your help'? You trying to be smart or something?'

'I just said 'Thanks for your help.' You don't have to read anything into it.'

Mrs. Beale started jabbing her finger again. 'You listen to me: You're a deaf person. Don't you come round to my house trying to tell me how to take care of my kid. Don't you even think about it. If I hear that you've been harassing Dr. Ferdinand, you're going to regret it for the rest of your life. You got that?'

Holly stared at her for a long time, saying nothing. She was trying to look as if she couldn't be intimidated, no matter what, and that she intended to do whatever it took to check up on Casper's condition. But she could see that Mrs. Beale was unimpressed. In fact, she wasn't even interested. Her eyes were unfocused, as if she were thinking about something else altogether.

'Well, there's no doubt I'll see you again,' said Holly, and Mrs. Beale immediately closed the door.

Holly was walking back to her car when a woman in ill-fitting high heels came tottering across the street toward her. She wore a yellow checkered dress and scarlet lipstick, and there was blobby mascara on her eyelashes. 'How is he?' she flustered.

'Oh, you mean Casper? Not too good, I'm afraid.'

'I feelsosorry for Hannah. What a terrible thing, to watch your child wasting away like that.'

'Yes, it's tough.' Holly unlocked her car and threw her briefcase onto the passenger seat.

'We were all hoping that we could give him one more vacation,' the woman told her. 'Do you think he's going to be well enough for that?'

'I don't know,' said Holly. 'I'm going to be talking to his doctor; he should be able to tell me.' She paused, and then she said, 'Who's 'we'?'

'The Casper Beale Cancer Fund. It's just me and six or seven neighbors, but we've managed to raise thousands. We sent him to Disneyland last October, and we've paid for all kinds of special treatments.'

Holly frowned. Now that this woman came to mention it, she vaguely remembered reading something about The Casper Beale Cancer Fund in thePortland Tribune. There might have been an item on TV too.

'The last thing we bought was that car, so that Hannah could take him on outings and to the Tasco Clinic in Seattle. Twenty-one thousand dollars we raised for that.'

'That's wonderful. Hannah's real lucky to have neighbors like you.'

'Well, we're pretty damn proud of ourselves. That's what my husband likes to say. He was in the Navy.'

'Mickey Slim'Comes to Supper

When she parked in the alleyway beside Torrefazione, she was surprised to see Mickey's black Aurora parked there too. She climbed the stairs, and as she put her key in the lock she heard laughter from inside her apartment-Daisy's and Mickey's laughter- and the television playing. She walked in to find Daisy and Mickey on the couch together and Marcella in the kitchen chopping onions.

'Mommy!' said Daisy, jumping up. 'Uncle Mickey's been helping me with my math homework! He showed me how to do multiplication! It'seasy!'

Holly gave her a kiss but kept her eyes on Mickey. 'It'sUncleMickey now, is it? When did you marry my sister, Mickey, not that I have one?'

'Heeeyy?,' said Mickey, sprawling back on the couch. 'I thought it sounded more family, you know?'

'I see.' She took off her raincoat, hung it up, and propped her briefcase and her laptop on the chair by the kitchen door. 'And to what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?'

'I can leave it till tomorrow if you like. I don't want to be a nuisance or nothing.'

'You promised to stay for supper,' said Daisy, jumping back onto the couch next to him. 'Uncle Mickeycanstay for supper, can't he, Mommy?'

'What is it you want, exactly?' Holly asked him. 'It's been a long day, and I'm due in court first thing tomorrow.'

'Hey,' said Mickey, standing up. 'I totally understand. I'm sorry. It was insensitive of me. I just thought that, since I was passing and there were one or two things I needed to talk to you about?'

'I'm sorry.'

He peered at her bruise. 'All the colors of the rainbow already. That's a sure sign that it's getting better.'

She didn't say anything, but Mickey stayed where he was and didn't take his eyes off her. Then he said abruptly, 'I'm out of here.'

'No!' Daisy insisted. 'Youhaveto stay for supper. Youpromised.'

Mickey picked up his coat. 'Sorry, spud. Your mom needs to rest. She needs to take a bath, close her eyes, and think about puppies and ponies and bright- colored candies. I'll come for supper some other night.'

Holly hesitated for a moment. Then she went to the kitchen doorway and said, 'Marcella, what are we having tonight?'

'Peperonata con carne di maiale-pork with peppers.'

'You cooked enough for three?'

'Three? I cook enough for three hundred.'

'In that case, Mickey, you're staying. Come on-it'll do me good.'

'You're sure?'

She nodded. Itwoulddo her good. Being deaf, it was always easier to shut herself off from other people, especially when she felt distressed, but maybe she should take a few more risks. Maybe she should even risk Mickey's sympathy.

'Sounds great to me,' grinned Mickey. 'Look, I took the liberty of pouring myself a glass of your wine. Do you want some?'

'Yes, yes, thanks. Daisy, why don't you go help Marcella?'

'Oh, do Ihaveto?' said Daisy.

'Please, pumpkin. Mommy has to talk to Uncle Mickey about work.'

Mickey poured her a large long-stemmed glass of pinot noir. 'You heard any more about Daniel Joseph?' he asked her.

'Still critical but stable. He's holding his own.'

In the kitchen Marcella was noisily frying red and yellow peppers. Daisy