He stood up and picked up the glass, setting it upon the fireplace mantel. She felt twin flames inside her heart, anger and shame. She hated the way he was talking to her, hated this entire conversation. And yet had she not done a foolish thing? Hadn’t she earned a reprimand? She did not know how to reply and felt tears pooling in her eyes again as she recalled poor Catalina’s face.
He must have noticed her turmoil or else he was simply done berating her, because his voice wavered a little. “You almost made me a widower tonight, Noemí. You will forgive me if I don’t feel very gracious at this time. I should head to bed. It’s been a long day.”
He did look tired, frankly exhausted. His blue eyes were very bright, with the brightness of a sudden fever. It made her feel even worse about the whole mess.
“I must ask you to leave Catalina’s medical care to Dr. Cummins and never bring any other tonics or remedies into this house. Are you listening to me?”
“I am,” she replied.
“Will you follow this simple directive?”
She clenched her hands. “I will,” she said, and she felt very much like a child.
He took a step closer to her, carefully looking at her, as though trying to discern a lie, but there was none. She spoke in earnest, and yet he brushed close to her, like a scientist who must analyze and jot down every detail of an organism, taking in her face, her pursed lips.
“Thank you. There are many things you cannot understand, Noemí. But let me make it clear that Catalina’s well-being is of the utmost importance to us. You’ve harmed her and in harming her you’ve harmed me.”
Noemí turned her head away. She thought he’d leave. Instead, he lingered at her side. Then, a small eternity later, he stepped away from her and out of the room.
14
In a sense all dreams foretell events, but some more clearly than others.
Noemí circled the word dreams with her pencil. She enjoyed writing in the margins of her books; she loved reading these anthropological texts, sinking into the lush paragraphs and the forest of footnotes. But not now. Now she couldn’t concentrate. She rested her chin on the back of her hand and placed the pencil in her mouth.
She had spent hours in waiting, trying to find things to do, books to read, perfecting tricks to distract herself. She checked her watch and sighed. It was close to five o’clock.
She had attempted to speak to Catalina early in the morning, but Florence had told Noemí that her cousin was resting. Around noon Noemí had tried again. She had been dismissed a second time, and Florence had made it clear there would be no visits with the patient until nighttime.
Noemí must not push and pry and attempt to wedge her way into that room, as much as she wanted to. She simply couldn’t. They’d toss her out if she did, and besides, Virgil was correct. She’d done wrong and felt ashamed.
How she wished there were a radio around the house. She needed music, conversation. She thought of the parties she attended with her friends, leaning against a piano with a cocktail in her hand. Also her classes at the university and the lively discussions at the cafés downtown. What she now had was a silent house and a heart riddled with anxiety.
…and dreams about ghosts, not recorded in this book, inform people about happenings among the dead.
She took the pencil out of her mouth and put the book aside. Reading about the Azande did her no good. It offered no distraction. She kept remembering her cousin’s face, her contorted limbs, the hideous episode of the previous day.
Noemí grabbed a sweater—the one Francis had given her—and stepped outside. She thought to smoke a cigarette, but once she stood in the shadow of the house she decided she needed a bit more distance from it. It lingered too close; it was hostile and cold and she did not wish to parade before its windows, which felt, to her, like lidless, eager eyes. She followed the path that snaked behind the house and led up to the cemetery.
Two, three, four steps, it seemed it didn’t take her long until she stood before the iron gates and walked inside. She’d been utterly lost in the mist before, but she did not bother to consider what she’d do if she