Afterlife - Julia Alvarez Page 0,31
the clinic and the hospital.
The last thing she needs . . . She doesn’t dare complete the thought. Just thinking it might bring on the next worst thing.
On her way into town, Antonia calls her sisters, using the Bluetooth device Sam recently installed in her car, knowing how Antonia liked to use her driving time to make many of her obligatory calls. I don’t want to end up being a widower, he had remarked. Those now seemingly prescient moments come back to haunt her: the past signaling this future, but with the roles reversed.
Tilly’s number, then Mona’s, goes to voicemail after half a dozen rings. Do they hear church bells and decide not to pick up? Any news? Please call me back. She dials Izzy. Why not? Instantly, she’s shunted to voicemail, Izzy’s phone out of juice or turned off.
Kempowski also can’t come to the phone right now, but her call is important to him. Please leave a detailed message. She decides not to, as there’s only so much nagging you can do, even if you are paying someone a hefty fee to find your missing sister. Besides, she wants to talk to him in real time, another strange phrase, real time. What other kind of time is there? Language seems increasingly strange. When did that start?
She’s in the checkout line when a call comes in from Mona. She landed a couple of hours ago at Logan, where she was picked up by Maritza, and they’re headed to Athol. Some interesting details have been surfacing. Maritza saw Izzy a couple of days before Izzy left to look at some properties for her centro. Izzy was high as a kite, talking nonstop. At one point Maritza said Izzy went to the bathroom, and her cell started to ring, so Maritza opened Izzy’s handbag to answer it, and whoa! It was full of cash, packets of bills, and half a dozen bottles of medications. So, did you rob a bank? Or a drugstore? Maritza confronted Izzy when she came back to their table. Izzy just narrowed her eyes and grinned with mischief. I mean, just the idea that Izzy would be walking around with a bag full of loot.
Kempowski needs to know all this.
I’ve already told him, Mona informs her. There’s a gloating tone to baby sister’s voice. As the youngest, she loves it when she can be first one to know and then report to the others.
Antonia unloads her cart onto the conveyor belt, a pile of groceries she would never buy for herself. But back in aisle two amid the sugary cereals, Antonia decided to bend her strict eat-healthy rules to accommodate Estela. Cocoa puffs, potato chips, Oreos, soda, taco shells, Goya beans, cheddar cheese, chocolate milk. The items speed forward into the ready hands of Hi, I’m Haley.
Hold on a sec, Antonia tells Mona. Haley needs to know if Antonia wants paper or plastic. Antonia hoists her paper bags into the cart and rolls away from all the noise.
Sounds like you bought up the store, Mona says, sounding offended about having to wait.
Does she tell Mona about what has come up? Antonia decides not to. Last thing she needs is Mona’s advice about what to do with Estela.
Anyhow, as I was saying, I called Kempowski, and he already was in touch with the Realtor, Nancy Something, who couldn’t say enough nice things about Izzy, how she, Nancy, felt she had met a long-lost sister. How she showed Izzy some really great deals. But for now we’re just going with the motel and the farm. Mona has moved from recounting what she has learned about the Realtor to imitating her.
A farm! Antonia feels she’s trapped in the maze that is Izzy’s mind in one of her manic spells. The world is crazy, grant it that, and granted she has been so wrapped up in her grief, but still, how could its craziness have come so close and she never noticed until recently? She needs the psychic version of Sam’s movement lights to flash warnings in her brain when precarious situations and needy people are nearby.
Mona, too, has lost her glee. She continues her narrative in a weary voice. How Izzy slept over at Realtor Nancy’s house before taking off to visit her sisters outside Chicago. How Nancy tucked her in that night. Her “long-lost sister” on whom she can unload all her worthless properties. What a total jerk! I don’t even want to talk to that woman, Mona says in