Where Bones Dance: An English Girlhood, An African War

Secret

186 Secret I am waiting for Dave and Dave’s mom. Caroline and I are sitting beside each other on the bench. All day the secret I learned has been buzzing in my head. Caroline swings her feet and hums. She is humming the “Battle Hymn of the Republic .” Sometimes she sings a little bit. She sings “Mine eyes have seen the glory,” and then she goes back to humming. She is in the smart half of fourth grade with me. Dave is in the other half. “If there was a war, what would you be?” I feel like my mother making conversation. “I’d be a nurse.” “You’d sew arms and legs back on?” “I’m not afraid of blood.” Caroline looks sternly at her feet. Her socks are very white. They are always very white. “And I’d write my husband a letter every night.” “And what would he do?” “He’d fight for his country, of course.” For a moment I think, which country? As if she heard my thought she begins to hum again. She finishes the “Battle Hymn” and then she begins on Home, home on the range. When she has finished she says, “In America everyone is free.” I wonder if that is what they talk about in the kitchen, her and her mom. Dave says they spend hours in the kitchen together. Dave is two minutes older. She sits down beside me. Jerry kicks rocks in front of us. Caroline says, “You’ll wear out your new sneakers.” She sounds very tired. Dave says, “Aw, leave him alone.” I look at my knees and Dave’s and Caroline’s. The sun cuts a ribbon across them. Mine are different, redder. The sun has gone away and it is thundering. We get in the back of the station wagon except Caroline, who sits in front. It begins to rain. The rain hits the roof and runs down the windows. The windscreen wipers go shh shh and people ride by on bicycles with newspapers over their heads. I feel sleepy and sad. It is like being in a tent and being dry but it is somebody else’s tent. The secret I know feels like a mosquito. It shouldn’t be there. I shouldn’t know it. It is their secret. They know it together. After we have drunk milk and eaten chocolate chip cookies Dave and I go up to her room and shut the door. She sits down on the bed but I stand by the window. “Is your father really a diplomat ?” I ask. “Sure he is.” She sounds surprised. “He’s really the third secretary in the embassy?” “Yeah, he really is.” Her voice sounds annoyed. She doesn’t want me to know either. I look at the thick grey rain and then I watch one drop dodge down the glass. I don’t want to know anymore . I wish I hadn’t heard my mother say it. When you know something you can’t make it go away. Just knowing it makes things different. “What are you talking about?” 187 C y c l e 3 188 Suddenly I know she doesn’t know and I am even lonelier. Secrets are lonely. I think that and it makes my throat hurt. If I tell her, she’ll have a secret she shouldn’t know and she’ll always know it. And if I don’t I’ll have it alone. Maybe she really knows anyway. I can feel her eyes looking at me. When I turn around she makes the secret sign. I am relieved. I have to tell her now. “Your Dad’s in the C.I.A. He’s not a diplomat. He’s a spy. I heard my mother tell my father that and he said it is a secret and she shouldn’t ever say it again.” I look at Dave then. She is looking at me. I can’t tell what’s in her eyes. After a long time she says, “It’s not true. He would have told us.” I didn’t think about how she wouldn’t believe me. “Perhaps he’s not allowed to.” “He goes to work every morning just like your father does. Is your father a spy?” “No.” “Well then, he shouldn’t spy on mine.” I nod. Something is tearing inside me. “Maybe he got...