Page 231 - And the Mountains Echoed (novel)
P. 231

She tipped her eyes up at me. The old playful shine was back. “You should be

               sorry. But I knew even before you hurled all over the floor.”
                   “Knew what?”
                   “That you were an ass.”









                             Madaline left two days before school started. She wore a tight butter
               yellow sleeveless dress that clung to her slim frame, horn-rimmed sunglasses,
               and a firmly knotted white silk scarf to hold down her hair. She was dressed as
               though  she  worried  parts  of  her  might  come  loose—like  she  was,  literally,
               holding herself together. At the ferry port in Tinos town, she embraced us all.
               She held Thalia the tightest, and the longest, her lips on the crown of Thalia’s
               head in an extended, unbroken kiss. She didn’t take off her sunglasses.
                   “Hug me back,” I heard her whisper.

                   Rigidly, Thalia obliged.
                   When the ferry groaned and lurched away, leaving behind a trail of churned-
               up water, I thought Madaline would stand at the stern and wave and blow us
               kisses. But she quickly moved toward the bow and took a seat. She didn’t look
               our way.
                   When we got home, Mamá told us to sit down. She stood before us and said,
               “Thalia, I want you to know that you don’t have to wear that thing in this house
               anymore. Not on my account. Nor his. Do it only if it suits you. I have no more

               to say about this business.”
                   It was then that, with sudden clarity, I understood what Mamá already had
               seen. That the mask had been for Madaline’s benefit. To save her embarrassment
               and shame.
                   For a long time Thalia didn’t make a move or say a word. Then, slowly, her
               hands rose, and she untied the bands at the back of her head. She lowered the
               mask. I looked at her directly in the face. I felt an involuntary urge to recoil, the
               way you would at a sudden loud noise. But I didn’t. I held my gaze. And I made

               it a point to not blink.
                   Mamá said she would homeschool me until Madaline came back so Thalia
               wouldn’t have to stay home by herself. She gave us our lessons in the evening,
               after dinner, and assigned us homework to do in the morning while she went off
               to school. It sounded workable, at least in theory.
                   But doing our studies, especially with Mamá away, proved nearly impossible.
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