Part 22 (1/2)
He winks. ”I'm sure it was a leap,” he says. ”That Toutmange was an Ignoriah par excellence, wouldn't you say?”
”A regular bombillator,” she agrees, smiling.
”What a team we've always been.” He laughs an appreciative laugh. But then he looks away. He is wearing some sort of silver amulet on a leather string; who knows what it means.
Outside, though a hazy stillness lingers, the summer people are leaving. How fast the summers go around here! It does seem that the days have only just warmed up. But already the nights are earlier and cooler, and the fruit trees heavy. Hitherto outdoor mice are starting to move in; the goldenrod is up; Millie's is closing earlier, having lost its summer help. School is set to start.
Still, though they've missed all the deadlines and done none of the forms, the Chhungs are talking home schooling. The first day of school comes and goes; the Chhung kids are still at home. The second day, Sophy appears at Hattie's door, shorn; she's wearing a small silver cross on a chain.
All these new pendants!
”It's good to see you again,” says Hattie, carefully. Da gun-with as much detachment as she can muster.
Sophy picks Annie up roughly. ”I cut my hair.”
”I see,” says Hattie.
”It's crooked.”
It looks as if she cut it blindfolded.
Still, Hattie insists, ”It's cute. Fetching.” Diplomatic in a way she can only hope Sophy will forgive-trying to pretend she isn't thinking things, though: Her Sophy! Her beautiful Sophy.
”It's not supposed to be fetching. It's supposed to keep me from temptation.” Sophy cradles Annie, who licks and licks her face; she wrinkles her nose, drying it with a raised shoulder. ”It's crooked,” she says again.
”Well,” allows Hattie, ”it could use”-she thinks-”adjustment.”
”I was hoping you'd make it even. Our scissors suck.”
”You can't do much with dull blades,” says Hattie.
”That's what I told Sarun.” Sophy lets Annie spill out of her arms. ”I told him you can't do much with dull blades.”
”Well, sit down. I do have a better pair.”
Scissors, comb, towel. Sophy dunks her head in the kitchen sink then perches on a stool, an old beach towel draped over her strong shoulders. A seaside-like sun bathes her striped back.
”Should I take off my cross?”
”If you want to.”
She leaves it on. Hattie squeegees a section of hair with two fingers, cuts, squeegees again; the excess water beads into her hand. She consults the dogs. What do they think? They sweep the floor with their tails. Hattie did use to cut both Joe's and Josh's hair, once upon a time, but she's rusty; she hopes Sophy doesn't end up with a crew cut.
”There.” Hattie directs Sophy to a door mirror at last; Sophy reappears with a shy smile. A satisfied customer, though, if anything, her beauty bursts forth more lusciously than ever. Her eyes have more lilt, her lips more pout; her cheekbones could be Sophia Loren's. The short roundness of her new do seems to change even her proportions: Her neck seems longer, and her b.r.e.a.s.t.s so full that the cross above them just seems a tease.
Ooh, la-la! Lee would have said. Get that girl a diaphragm!
But luckily, she is dead and not here, thinks Hattie-even as she thinks, how could she have thought that? How could she?
”So will that do it?” Hattie asks, sweeping.
Sophy nods, trying to tuck her hair behind her ears; it doesn't stay. ”It's so I can go to school.”
”Did your dad change his mind?”
Sophy nods; her hair sweeps teasingly into her eyes. ”After I cut it. Plus I prayed.”
”Well, wonderful.” Hattie gets out her dustpan.
”So no more Chinese lessons,” Sophy says. ”Now that I'm starting school again.”
”Ah,” says Hattie. ”Are you excited?”
”It's better than being stuck in the trailer all day.”
”I bet.”
Sophy plays with Annie. ”Sit,” she says, and is delighted when Annie obeys, even if she immediately stands back up. ”You're getting big!” she tells Annie.
Annie sits again.
”I wonder if you're going to have time for your Bible study cla.s.s,” says Hattie. ”What with homework and all.” She raises the subject casually, trying not to upset Sophy again. And Sophy, happily, does not seem upset.
”No,” she says. ”But it's okay, because I'm going to the church school. So I'll have Bible study every day anyway.”
Church school?
”You know. The one down the street from church.”
And then Hattie remembers: the school Candy complained about. The one the church put straight across from the public school on purpose, people say, to draw kids away.
”How are you going to get there?” asks Hattie, carefully.
”The blue car.”
”Ah. Well, good luck and come poke your head in every now and then. Annie's going to miss you.”
Sophy kneels to give Annie a hug. ”Do you think she'll know I've left her?”
”Are you leaving her?”
Sophy touches noses with Annie. ”Eskimo kiss,” she says. Annie's tail thumps.
”Would you like her?” asks Hattie, after a moment. ”You can have her if you'd like.”
”Can I really?” Sophy's on all fours, now, like Annie.
”Of course.”
”Though would my dad let me keep her? That's the problem, isn't it.”