Page 34 - WTP Vol.VII #2

So Much the Better (continued from preceding page)
engine brought back to life. “Angel, I see pokes of hair growing back on your tail.” I swear the cat lifted its matted head and stared into Sadie’s eyes. “You’re go- ing to be alright.”
much the better.’ The ninety-mile round trip took four days. My daddy always took extra water and oats for the horse. He liked to have a flask of lemon water to make himself presentable.”
Nadya would touch Sadie’s hand as they ministered to the cat and hug her at the end of each of their sessions.
It seemed her story was misaligned by generations, maligned by her fabrications. The way she pro- nounced the name of the horse sounded awfully pretentious, but I certainly wasn’t going to call her on any point.
One day, in spring, I was on Nadya’s roof sopping wood shingles with linseed oil. Sadie came to her session wearing a dress. With her hair washed and standing out puffy, she looked up at me and smiled, her white teeth lighting the world. I swear I could have rolled
“It was August late, and the apples bent the tree limbs down and down. My daddy found the best apples that season, Jonathans, McIntosh, and Red Delicious, and loaded up his purchases.
off that roof to a happy death. I was drawn to this new version of Sadie, the one intended for this world.
~
“’Boy, you steal this rig?’ asked a white man with skin so pale you could see blue veins beneath.
“My daddy drove a wagon from Manitou to Penrose for apples. He intended to ferment cider.” We sat on her front steps, smoking like two sleepy volcanoes. “We had a horse named Tant Mieux. That’s French for ‘so
“’Who you to be asking?’ answered my daddy. His chin would have been up and haughty like. That I believe was his undoing.”
Nocturne
acrylic 56'' x 132'' By Bette Ridgeway