Читать книгу Reading Lips - Claudia Sternbach - Страница 6

It’s the middle of the night. My mouth is dry. I can’t move my right arm, the bandages are stuck tight. The last thing I remember is Michael kissing me good-bye as I was taken into surgery. Tears are leaking from the corners of my eyes. My eyes that won’t stay open. A nurse comes in and turns on a light. But it isn’t the cancer that’s making me cry. Not right now.

Can I get you anything? she asks.

I try to answer, but no words come out. My tongue feels thick and heavy. I open one eye and see her face. I try once more to speak.

I lost my purse, I tell her in a croaky whisper and begin to cry harder.

Here in the hospital? she wants to know. Did you have it when you came in?

Not that purse, I tell her. An old purse. It was blue. Leather. I had it years ago when I lived in Berkeley.

I give up trying to keep my eyes open. I can see the purse. Feel the weight of it. It was stolen. Someone stole it. I was shopping on College Ave.

I’m lying here in the hospital. I’ve just had surgery for breast cancer. I’m crying about a lost purse. A purse I never saw again.

There wasn’t much money in the wallet. But there were pictures. Black-and-white photos of my sisters when they were little. A picture of Sharon from sixth grade. A picture of Babs. The only picture I ever had of Teddy.

And then I am wrapped in sleep. I fall deeper and deeper until there is nothing but silence.

In the morning, breakfast trays rattle. Shoes squeak down the hall. My morphine drip is disconnected.

I wonder if it was a dream.