Afterlife - Julia Alvarez Page 0,11

the niceties of good morning, how are you, hope I didn’t wake you. He launches right in: Does Antonia need Mario’s help today? She mentioned some window washing? If so, Roger can drop off the ladder on his way to town, pick it up later as he won’t be needing it today. No niceties, but who cares? It’s awful nice of you, Antonia thanks him.

A few minutes later, his pickup turns into her driveway then heads down to the back of the house. She hears him unloading the ladder—presumably by himself. Easier unloading than loading it. Sounds like a rule of life, she would have noted to Sam. She loved it when ordinary observations or a string of simple words suddenly opened up to reveal some profundity. You don’t say, Sam would often respond to her insights. She was never sure what to make of that expression. It was one more of those Americanisms that would sometimes ambush her, and she would feel all over again that there was some deep core in English that she couldn’t access.

When he shows up, Mario has already called around. On what phone? she confronts him, startling him. José’s and mine, do?ita. They bought it together. But they don’t have a plan. No permanent address where the bills can be sent, no credit card, no credit. They buy phone cards, save up their minutes for calling Mexico. And knowing English, la do?ita could help in making any travel arrangements.

Mario goes on to report that his paisanos have all agreed to help. To the tune of several hundred more. There is only so much they can spare. Everyone has to budget. Antonia calls the Colorado number but hands the phone over and leaves Mario to his negotiations. She is not getting in any deeper. She has decided. This weekend, for her birthday, she’ll be in Chicago.

In her bedroom, Antonia phones Vivian on her cell, too late remembering it is too early. But Vivian is already up. Really looking forward to tonight. We also invited Wendy and poor Jim Blake. Does Vivian refer to her as poor Antonia when talking to Wendy and Jim Blake?

How to wiggle out of it now? Antonia could plead illness, but then Vivian will insist on coming over. A dinner party you can leave early, but a friend at your door with a container of bean salad and a plate of brownies is harder to get rid of. She could tell Vivian the truth: I’m overwhelmed, didn’t sleep last night or the night before or the night before. No, it’s not just grief, it’s me. She read the book her therapist recommended, The Highly Sensitive Person. She found it in the college’s science library, which gave the book a certain legitimacy, not just a feel-good self-help flash in the social-science pan. The author outlined how certain organisms are highly reactive, get easily overwhelmed, require a different ecosystem to thrive. Not a pathology, a type. It was reassuring to read the book. An earlier patron had marked it up, inked notes in the margins, passages underlined, highlighted—in a library book, imagine! A highly sensitive person overreacting.

So, how are you? Vivian wants to know, her voice tinged with concern.

I’m okay, Antonia replies, a tad too quickly to be totally convincing. But Vivian doesn’t probe further. The landscape of grief is not very inviting. Visitors don’t want to linger. The best thing you can do for the people who love you is to usher them quickly through it. She does not want to become “poor Antonia.”

Thanks for asking, Antonia says, closing the subject. This would be the moment to say she won’t be coming tonight. But Antonia can’t bring herself to do it, bailing out of a dinner party she knows damn well has been assembled to support her.

She and Franklin are so looking forward to tonight, Vivian says brightly. Antonia doubts Franklin is looking forward to all of his wife’s poor friends at his table. Franklin never says much, until a remark triggers him and he is launched. The discovery of gravity waves. The inaccuracies of historical fiction. Solar eclipses and how long they will have to wait until the next one. (This one she has heard several times and she still can’t seem to remember how long.) The wines of Chile.

And here she used to worry about Sam going on and on about universal health care. At least Sam only had one bone to pick in public. But maybe diversity is better