Four Times Blessed Read Free

him.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
                  “Crusa, honey, close up the shutters in your room before you go to sleep. There’s a big storm brewing. I can feel it in my bones. Do you feel it? Well, you will when you’re as old as me, but I bet you don’t feel it now, my beautiful girl. You’ve grown so lovely lately.”
                  She reaches out for my fingers and kisses them.
    “I never liked that school of yours, making you kids wear those ugly outfits. They make you cut your hair like a boy and wear boy clothes, and then of course they can’t tell any of you children apart. Then they make me sew nametags on all those terrible outfits so they know which ones are yours. But really it doesn’t matter, does it? Because all the clothes are the same!
    “I don’t know why they did that. Are they crazy? Why do they want everyone to look ugly. But I like that they fixed you all up so nicely before sending you on. Not that they had to do much to you, pretty girl. Just growing your hair out made such a big difference. I can’t even see that mole on your scalp anymore. Come. Give me a kiss.”
                  I go to her and put my lips on her forehead and she smiles.
                  “Good night, baby. Sweet dreams.”
                  “Good night, Zizi. Love you.”
                  “I love you too, honey.”
                  Halfway up the stairs she yells to me, “Crusa. Don’t forget about the shutters.”
                  I mumble and wave at her.
     
                  Sometime in the middle of the night, I realize I forgot about the shutters as one swings around and swats the side of the house, and wakes me. I jump out of bed and get my nightgown all soaked by hanging half out the window, trying to drag the stupid things closed. 
    There. We’re all good. Nothing to worry about.
    I see no reason to tell my zizi about this, but I’m afraid she’ll find out. She always does. I bet she heard the shutter when it slammed. I listen through the wall to see if I can hear her snoring.
                  Kind of hard to tell what with the storm and all. I shrug, throw a different nightgown on, and settle back.
                  There’s no moon tonight. The wind wheezes in and out of my room through the cracks, sucking air like an old deckhand. With each breath, the door smacks its bolts against the hollows of its own locks. I groan. I can’t sleep with all this noise.
                  I look over at my cousin Eleni in the bed next to mine. It’s from when I used to share this room with Camillo, before he moved into the old vestibule downstairs. He loves it down there. It’s dark and smells like old sweat, because before him it’s where my uncles stored their old fishing gear. Back then, we didn’t go in if we could help it, and since it still smells the same, me and most people have kept up that practice, no offense to my brother.
    Still contemplating the form of my cousin, lost to her dreams, I frown. I’m bored.
    And I have a wicked desire for her to be woken by the storm.
                  I throw a pillow behind my back, careful not to add a misplaced note to the night, and slump against it. Then there’s a flash and a crash right on top of each other.
    I start counting down the number of Mississippi’s in between the lightning flashes and the thunder rolls. I allow each passing moment of time in seconds (t sec) = (n + (1)Mississippi) = 1 mile that the actual crash of hot and cold is from my position=(0,0,0), where n= consecutive positive integers. Assume 1 mile=1.609 km.
    I should probably be using calculus for this, but I left my slate at the lab