Magruder's Curiosity Cabinet Read Free Page A

over one another like playful children. Even the rodents, it seems, are having a better day than she. But suddenly things turn serious. The squirrels square off like a couple of boxers, both up and dancing on their hind legs, chittering at each other, mad-eyed and desperate. One lunges for the other and sinks in its teeth. The other squirrel shrieks, wrenching itself back and forth, but the first squirrel just digs in, tearing his enemy’s throat. They are a tangle of limbs and tails and blood, wailing and screeching. Then it ends as suddenly as it started—the dominant squirrel stands triumphant over his lifeless foe. He glares up at Kitty, daring her judgment.
    Kitty shudders and turns back to the sea. I don’t think I care for New York.
    â€¢ • •
    The afternoon slips away, as summer afternoons are inclined to do. Tired and sunburned, the bathers pack up and depart for dinner at home, hotel, wherever they belong. Even the little birds have somewhere to go. Not Kitty.
    From the street behind, a strange sound. A conversation—no, multiple conversations—in mysterious, clicking tongues. Five women approach, with young children orbiting like hyperactive satellites. Four appear to be Africans, with dark skin and ample, rounded bodies swathed in colorful, patterned materials. The upper lip of each woman is stretched outward four or five inches by a ceramic plate inserted in the skin. The plates look painful, and how the women can speak at all is a mystery to Kitty. But they do, and they seem perfectly happy. Their children run down the beach and splash into the water, while the mothers laugh and chitchat, always with one eye on their young ones in the waves.
    The fifth woman hangs back from the group. She is lighter skinned and very tall. Her stretched-out neck is decorated with dozens of brass rings. The other women give her friendly glances but do not speak to her; she is with them but not of them. The tall woman has two young children with her—a girl and a boy—and they stay close to their mother, clinging to her long, embroidered skirt. She leans down and urges them, in yet another language Kitty doesn’t understand, to go play with the others. Before long, the children forget their shyness and race down to the water’s edge.
    Satisfied, the tall woman approaches Kitty and smiles. She points questioningly at the empty space on the bench.
    â€œOh yes, please,” Kitty says. “Please, sit.”
    The woman nods. She reaches into her yellow bag and removes a leather canteen. Noticing Kitty’s naked envy at the sight of fresh water, she holds out the canteen.
    â€œNo, I couldn’t,” Kitty says out of ritual politeness. The woman offers the canteen again, and this time, Kitty can’t resist. She seizes it like a life raft and takes a long drink of the fresh, miraculously still-cool water. Although she knows she shouldn’t, she takes another drink. And a third.
    She wipes her mouth, embarrassed. “Thank you.” Kitty tries to return the canteen, but the woman refuses it. She puts up her hand. Thank you, but no.
    â€œThank you, ma’am. That’s so…” Kitty takes another sip, blinking back a few grateful tears.
    The woman’s daughter runs to the bench, her brother close behind. The girl cries and points at her brother, babbling a list of offenses. The woman puts her arms around her daughter, kisses her on the forehead, and smacks her playfully on the bottom, sending her back toward the beach. She addresses her son, firmly but kindly. He nods begrudgingly and follows his sister to the water. The woman smiles at Kitty and shakes her head.
    â€œOh, I know,” Kitty says. “I have an older brother too.” She bites her lip. “Had. I had an older brother.”
    The woman tilts her head thoughtfully. She pats Kitty on the knee and says something incomprehensible yet comforting. She reaches into her bag, and as she