Rumors of Peace Read Free

wandering around in carpet slippers or aprons, gathering together in little knots, talking and looking around. Dad and Mama went out too. Through the lace curtain I saw them also talking and looking around. Inside, Karla was sitting in a temporary position on the arm of the sofa, leafing through the Sunday papers. Peter was stooped over the radio, turning the dial.
    Suddenly there was a commotion from outside. A police car and a motorcycle policeman had screeched to the curb, motors running, radios blasting. The two men talked in shouts; then with a powerful kick of his boot the motorcycle policeman exploded the air and roared off, the car speeding urgently after.
    With my calm and interested expression I turned to Peter. “Where did you say Hawaii was?”
    He spread his world map on the floor and showed me. It was certainly very far from the streets of Mendoza, with the huge Pacific in between. But the knot in my stomach remained.
    When Dad and Mama returned, they had no news. No one knew anything except what we had heard on the radio.
    More bulletins flashed on. They were always the same. Ships sunk, aircraft destroyed, casualties extreme. I did not know what casualties were, and did not ask.
    Once, looking through the curtain, I saw a man go by carrying a pistol. I bit my lip and said nothing. Through the lace, the winter sun filtered bright as spring. A wrong, twisted day.

    In the afternoon I went out on the front steps and sat down with Peter, who was waiting for a friend.
    â€œThey’re talking about war in there,” I said.
    â€œThat’s right.” His eyes were narrowed against the sun.
    â€œWhy? What do we care about Hawaii?”
    â€œChrist, Suse, Pearl Harbor’s a naval base. They bombed an American naval base.”
    â€œWhat does it matter if it’s so far away?”
    â€œChrist,” he said again. He was not allowed to say Christ, but in his familiar gray cords and white shirt, with his blond hair hanging as always like a brush across his forehead, he seemed suddenly his own grown-up person, excited in a stern, preoccupied way.
    â€œYou don’t make an unprovoked attack like that and get away with it,” he said. “It means war.”
    I smoothed my dress tightly across my knees. “You mean war there, in Hawaii.”
    My words were drowned out by the honks of a jalopy pulling up, foxtail flying, sides scrawled with “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” and “Hold your hat, here we go!” Peter’s friend leaned out with a wry snort. “What a sitting duck, hey? Shell in our backyard? They’ll wipe this poor old burg right off the map.”
    Peter frowned in my direction. His friend went silent. Then he smiled. “Just a lot of rumors, snooks. Nothing to it.”
    But I felt a bright, sickening hollowness, as if my bones had turned to air.

    Karla had gone to the Sunday matinee with some friends. She came back within half an hour. The theater was closed. So was Dreamlandroller skating rink. It grew clear to me that the town was readying itself. From the radio came an announcement that all schools in the county would be shut the next day. I swallowed and said, “Good, I can sleep late.”

    I was getting ready for bed. Mama had come in with me.
    â€œI think it’s been a bad day for you, Suse,” she said, sitting down on the bed.
    â€œNo, it’s been interesting.”
    â€œThat man down in the creek wasn’t right in his mind. I don’t want you to go around brooding over what he said.”
    â€œI’m not,” I assured her. “I know we’re not going to be invaded.” And I cast her a sidelong glance as I took up my pajamas. “I know we’re not going to be bombed either.”
    My mother gave a nod, but it was indefinite. “Sit down here for a minute,” she said, and she took my hands. “You know, Suse, even if nothing happens, people have to be