Dreamsleeves Read Free Page A

you are.
    But then I don’t. Because I know that Nana already knows how bad it is.
    Often, when we’re sitting here having tea, we can hear the little ones’ feet pounding, running back and forth upstairs, Dad yelling, sometimes the sharp yelp and crying after someone’s been spanked, Dad shouting at Mom, doors slamming.
    Nana hears Dad ridiculing my mom about her cooking or her weight in front of everyone at Sunday dinner. She’s seen him hit us, watched him stumble up the stairs after a night out at a bar; she’s listened to me complain about him not letting me go anywhere, locked up like a prisoner, always having to babysit, not being able to join my friends for movies or the seventh-grade end-of-year dance last week. (“It’s not a date, Dad, it’s just a dance!”) I didn’t even know then that Mike Mancinello might like me; I just wanted to have fun with my class, just like everybody else.
    Nana’s watched me sit here crying, tears dripping down on this table, heart broken over and over again, and yet she never says a bad word about him. It’s like there are red lights swirling and alarms blaring and megaphones booming “evacuate! evacuate!” on the floor right above her in this house that she owns with this family she loves so much and she can smell the smoke, but she pours another cup of tea, says another novena, and refuses to shout “fire!”
    Suddenly I am very scared about Nana leaving for the whole summer. I will be the only one home during the day with all of the little ones. And even though Nana never yells at my father, I know that if something really, really bad happened upstairs I could run right down here and get her….
    Maybe now … I try to meet her eyes…. Maybe now since she’s leaving for the whole summer, maybe she would say something to him before she goes. My heart beats faster. Do it, A, now.
    â€œNana?” I say.
    â€œYes, darling?”
    Beep, beep, beep. The loud honking of a car horn shatters the quiet and makes both of us jump in our seats. My father’s home, impatiently honking in the driveway; he doesn’t like to be kept waiting. Beep, beep, beep . I stand, my heart pounding. Any time he comes home, my heart pounds. One has to be on guard.
    â€œOh, dear,” Nana says, looking at the clock.
    I shout for B, C, and D to hurry down from the swings, and I rush up the steps. “Time to go to the airport!” I wake up Eddie, quickly change his diaper, grab the sack I packed earlier with snacks and toys for the road, and lead them all down to the car.
    Nana squeezes in the backseat with us, her knuckles snow-white, clutching her purse in her lap. I can feel her fear.
    Callie sits on Beck’s lap. Dooley climbs on Nana’s. I’ve got baby E.
    Dooley offers Nana an animal cracker from his box. “It’s a lion, Nana,” he says.
    â€œOh, no, dear, thank you,” she says.
    D’s hand plunges in the box and out again. “Here, Nana. How ’bout a camel?”
    Nana is lost in thought. I smile at Dooley. “I’ll take it, D. I love camels.”
    At the airport, we say good-bye on the sidewalk. Nana slips me a taped-up note. “Open it later,” she whispers with a wink. I stick it in my pocket.
    â€œAnd please remember to water and weed my flowers.”
    â€œOkay, Nana. Don’t worry. Good luck! Tell Aunt Bitsy we said hi. Send me a picture of the baby and San Francisco, too!”
    We hug quickly; Nana’s not big on hugging. I start to cry. It’s the first time Nana’s ever gone away from us. The first time someone in my family has taken off on an airplane. The first time I’ve ever been to an airport. Where are all these people going?
    Dad drives us to a parking area and turns off the ignition. We watch a few planes take off. Maybe one of them is Nana’s. Be strong, Nana. You’ll be fine . “I’m leaving on a jet