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19 Chapter Five The Devil’s Choice Minutes, hours, then days slipped by until I lost all sense of time. Time became an abstraction, it would bend and reel forward then spool back again. I spent my days with Stephanie—from early morning until late at night. I gazed at her, seeming so peacefully asleep, and I would conjure up the dancing Stephanie, in her ballet class, who had out-danced so many of her co-students, Stephanie in a pink tutu, gracefully bending her arm over her head at the ballet barre. Then in my mind I saw her changing, like in a family movie, from a little ballerina in dance class to my rambunctious Stephanie, running full speed toward me when I picked her up from Brownie meetings, falling into my arms, out of breath, hugging me hard. Graceful Stephanie, always in motion, with her hair flying and full of energy. And now she lay motionless in a coma. It was impossible to comprehend. Marvin came at various hours as his law practice allowed. He never stayed long; he couldn’t bear to see his daughter comatose. “You stay with her,” he’d say. “There’s nothing I can do. Nothing. . .No, no, you handle it.” The rhythm of his leather heels could be heard through the windows of Stephanie’s room, as they paced a clickety-clack beat outside. He was never without the brown stub of a cigar clenched tightly between his teeth. Back and forth he paced, chewing, puffing. Late in the afternoon we left in our separate cars, Marvin to go back to the office, I to go home and prepare dinner and spend time with Steven. Stephanie’s illness became an increasing mystery to her brother, and the hospital rules created a gulf between brother and sister. I didn’t understand the reason that siblings under fourteen were not allowed to visit the children’s wing. It seemed unjust, especially since there were no communicable diseases involved. It was only natural that a brother would be curious about his sister and the other children I had spoken about in the hospital. In the room opposite Stephanie’s lay Cindy, the girl I had dreamt of, a girl Steven knew from school. She had a malignant tumor removed from her jaw. 20 Broken Butterfly “How’s Cindy?” Steven asked. “Does she play with Steff?” “No, Steven. I told you. Stephanie is lying on an ice blanket, with tubes connected to her. She’s in a coma. That’s like being asleep. She can’t play.” “Well, it’s time for her to wake up. She’ll like Cindy when she does. She’s neat.” “It looks like Cindy’s going home.” “Bet she’s happy. Just before Christmas.” “Yes.” I drew him near. “Yes, her parents are lucky. They’ll all be together for Christmas.” Steven could not comprehend the reality behind the word coma, nor why his sister continued to lie on an ice blanket in an oxygen tent, seemingly asleep. “Is she sort of dead then?” he asked. When he mentioned the word dead, I lost focus. I stammered when I tried to explain. “No, Steven, she is. . .like. . .One day soon, she’ll wake up. And one day she’ll be well.” I heard my voice rise with an artificial cheerfulness. My fingers ran through his thick hair. “Stevie, we have to be patient. I love you very much, but Stephanie needs me more now. Please, try to understand why I spend so much time with her.” “Mom, if she’s asleep, she won’t know if you’re there or not. So why don’t you. . .Want to play checkers?” We played. I couldn’t concentrate. He won. I tried to be an attentive mother to him, but children know. Steven sensed my wandering thoughts, and he heard the undertones in my voice that gave away the lie of my spoken words. Steven sensed my impatience to rush back to the hospital. He said, “You better hurry on up, Mom. See you later alligator. Bye.” His small voice trailed off as I ran out the door. Each night, after dinner, Marvin and I returned to the hospital. Sometimes we took the Coldwater Canyon route, a few miles longer, but saving us— depending on traffic—perhaps ten minutes of driving time. We zigzagged in serpentines over the hills that separate the Los Angeles basin from the San Fernando Valley. My concern...

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