shame of anyone knowing what you did to me with your finger and threat and then killing me, but they didn’t want to ask you to go away to live somewhere else because they thought you’d come back on the sly to kill me or, away from them watching you, kill yourself, so they sent me away, Jerry knew where I was, Dad, they all saw me from time to time, I went to live with relatives of one of Mom’s friends in Wisconsin, they weren’t well off and could use the money for my room and board, the doctors and nurses all knew of the elaborate ruse, even the ambulance men who drove me that last time were in on it, the hospital orderlies and dietician on my floor who I only secretly got to use when you were away from the room,” “Wait, let’s say for argument’s sake again in this cock-and-bull story that’s at least a bit better than before — all the names and most of the facts right and things, so more believable but still with a few holes — I’d already been out of the house working for a number of years, and didn’t they ever think of therapy to help me get over it?” “Everybody knew your views on it — you’d said plenty of times you had nothing against it for anyone but yourself,” “I’m not saying I would have changed my mind but it’s possible I might have,” “As Dad used to say about you, you were always too much of a hard nut,” “He said that to whom?” “To you, to me, and as for your out-of-the-house stuff, the folks got you to move back for a few years soon after I told them, didn’t they?” “I came back from my Washington job with little money — no, that was after Alex died, which he isn’t by the way-dead, but I’ll tell you more about that later, or I won’t, for who are you to tell it to? and California’s where I came back from a month before she died and had no money and my father was sick so I stayed to have a place to live and to help my mother with him for what turned out to be a few years, but anyway, for argument’s sake for the last time, and to me this is the clincher who you’re not, let’s say you weren’t as sick as you looked in the hospital the day you didn’t die, what happened to your illness? for you were diagnosed chronic progressive or some term by the time you were twelve, and after you didn’t die but to me you did — and believe me I wouldn’t be talking to you like this if you really were Vera, I’d be all over her in happiness if she were alive and miserable talking seriously to someone about her death — your doctors tried consoling us by saying you lived longer than they ever expected, though credited it mostly to Mom’s meticulous unsparing nursing of you,” “All part of the elaborate ruse, and the good country living might have had something to do with my complete recovery, and maybe just being away from the threat of you, or else I’d been misdiagnosed from the time I was five, repeatedly operated on when I never should have been, or some spectacular unaccountable remission that plenty of terminal people get and which eventually wiped away all my illness’s signs except the surgery scars, but I’d been slowly getting better or not worse for years, you never saw it because of all your living here and there and only coming back for days or weeks and then paying little attention to me because maybe you thought I was so ugly and deformed or you worried I might allude to the finger incident,” “Not true; the scars did scare me sometimes, especially when they were fresh and that tracheotomy one when it was still almost a hole, but I used to take you to dinner and movies — not many but some and especially when I lived in New York with Janine — your first Indian food at a place called the Bombay, those Shanghai somethings or another at 103rd and the other at 125th under the el — you defiantly ate with a fork and called Janine and me phonies with our chopsticks, which I loved you for doing and saying what you wanted,” “So you did it occasionally, or irregularly, or biannually, but as for me then, I wasn’t off crutches yet but no new flareups of the disease for years, so when I did have that last setback it was all part of the elaborate ruse, our aunts, uncles and cousins knew of it, most of my church pals and all our folks’ good friends, we had a makeup artist come to the house when you were out for an hour that last day to make me look suddenly worse, and then the next days at the hospital to make me look comatose and then dead, she was dressed like an orderly and then like one of the nurses who rushed into the room to supposedly pull out the plugs, we even hired an out-of-work director to stage the whole thing, of course the rabbi at the funeral was in on it, I wanted a minister but Dad said ‘Born a Jew, and since we’re surviving you, die a Jew — if you outlive us you can have it the way you want,’ the funeral home people knew of it — I was already on the plane to Wisconsin so couldn’t see, much as I wanted to, your reaction and how everybody else acted, the body in the casket was around my weight in two fifty-pound sandbags, which is why Mom ordered the casket to stay closed, not because she thought people would be put off by my last looks, the cemetery owners, even the gravediggers there and all the guests, except the ones who only learned about it through the obit, at the funeral, burial and unveiling,” “Unveiling, that’s the word I wanted,” “In the end it benefited you as much as me, as you didn’t go to jail or anything like that and I didn’t live around you with the threat of your killing me hanging over my head and you possibly even trying to diddle me again,” “I never would have done either, ever, I was just a kid saying and doing kid things, I passed her room, or went to it intentionally to speak to her or catch her nude, her nightlight was on, saw her sleeping on her back or thought she was sleeping, but then probably woke her with what I did, nightdress above her waist or a few inches below it or right on it, anyway, her legs pretty much open and pubic area exposed, everybody was out, I was getting a quarter an hour to act as the sitter, I got excited at what I saw as I think would any kid my age, the line of hair above her crack like a short pencil-thin mustache standing up, the crack itself for the first time, I’d never seen one even on a baby at a beach, maybe mothers and nannies suspected me even at an early age and immediately covered their girls, once my mother nude from my room into theirs when they thought I was asleep if they thought about it but I was too young to understand what it was to get excited and she was all hair there and prancing around fast, so not good for an extended look, I felt horrible for years about what I did to Vera, for a few seconds at the funeral I was glad she was dead so the secret would go with her, since neither she nor anyone else ever gave me a sign she’d told or they knew, in fact on that last hospital day I whispered to her almost up against her ear how sorry I’d always been about it and said what it was explicitly, something like ‘Your vagina that time some fifteen years back when I put my finger in, it was the most despicable thing I ever did in my life and I apologize a thousand times for it,” “No you didn’t, I was conscious every second you were there, except the night when I slept, but you say it was the last day, and I’m telling you you never said anything about it, if you had I would have stopped the elaborate ruse right then or soon after, somehow made a miraculous recovery, got the makeup artist in once more, been discharged, gone home, gotten much better under Mom’s care and lived a normal life there with the family and you, all things forgiven, for it would have saved us all a lot of time and trouble and the folks a tremendous expense: fake hospital care, for no matter how hard Dad tried finagling it he couldn’t get Blue Cross or Cancer Care to pay, the funeral, burial and unveiling ceremonies and gravestone, and my airfare to Wisconsin and living costs out there till I was able to get a job, and so on, even the regular postman knew, Mrs. G. at her bakery down the block, Morris the candy store man, most of the butchers at Gristede’s, I became a dental hygienist thanks to Dad who heartbroken when none of his boys became dentists settled on the next best thing for me, married a vet who specializes in farm animal teeth and gums and help him run his practice, because of all the different treatments and operations I had when I was a girl I couldn’t have any children that weren’t stillborn, I’m a doting aunt to several of Ted’s nieces and nephews and less so, since I never saw them as much, to Jerry’s kids and now even their kids, do you finally believe me or do you want to phone Jerry or Mom for proof? — you once complained that my painting by numbers was for morons and bought me a real paint set and canvases I felt too unequal to to ever use, you once took me to Janine’s Christian Science practitioner because you thought as long as nothing else was working maybe that would, you once, because of the red-and-black plaid flannel shirt I took from your drawer and wore—,” “What made you come see me now?” “Why put it off longer? why not have done it sooner? one time I was all set to fly in to tell you when I got a bad flu and then changed my mind, what you don’t know will hurt you? what you do know might kill you? why bring up old bilge or why not work it out before you’re dead? for you might get hit by a falling brick tomorrow like I heard happens in the city or one in some punk’s hand and then I’d always be sorry we didn’t talk of it, or I could find I’ve had another kind of cancer for years and go in three days flat, so who knows? reasons for doing can be just as good for not, Ted said do and don’t, Jerry said don’t and do, Mom said ‘What’s best for you, what’s best for you both,’ Dad said to clam it since knowing you’d been duped for so long might give you even more reason for doing me in, Alex never said since he was drowned or his ship blew up or something before I told anyone, but now you say he’s kicking, good, I want to reunion with him too, for one thing to explain why I stole his ship fare from his drawer which stopped his round-the-world trip for half a year which I guess ended up with him getting on a different one coming home that now never went down or did but without him — I liked having him around, didn’t want to see him go or me be the last child at home, but mind if I use your bathroom? — tiny bladders run in our family — remember Mom dashing in from the street and leaving a pee line on the floor?” and he points the way, says “What am I saying, I mean doing, for it’s not as if I see you every day? — oh Jesus, Vera, this is more than I can say, both of you back the same day,” kisses her hands, says “I feel so bad what I put you though starting from that time in your room, I also want you to meet Denise and our girls, they’re going to love having a blood sister-in-law and aunt from me — Denise is an only child and all of what would have been her relatives right down to the last second cousin were murdered or worked or frozen or starved to death during World War II, and also please, whatever you do, don’t tell my kids what I did to you — no threats but I will feel rotten if they find out,” and puts his arms around her and kisses her head, she says “You still retract like you used to because of the ugly scar down my back — for my sake try to get used to it if you’re going to hug me,” and he says “I always thought I did it in a way where you didn’t notice, I’m sorry, and go to the bathroom, you’re jumping around as if you have to,” and she goes in, shuts the door, turns the faucet on, “Just like Mom,” he says, “with the water going, so nobody will hear,” “You say something?” “The faucet — Mom — I don’t think I spoke about this with anyone in the family — used to even turn it on to teach us how to pee in the bowl — she thought the sound of it, which still gives me the urge to go if I’m in the john or at the kitchen sink and the water’s on,” phone rings, “It’s Dad,” he says, “has to be, the triumveral — which lots of people must have already coined — return, or march,” and picks up the phone and says hello, “Will you accept a collect call from Simon Tetch?” a woman says, “Sure, put him on, I won’t even ask how he’s there, since I saw him right before my eyes die — no going-out-of-the-room-at-the-last-moment on my part — and then a day later get buried, and his body I saw at the funeral,” “Howard,” a voice like his father’s says, “how’s my boy, and good to hear you, and how I got back I’ll level with you straight off — I wasn’t dead or faking, just some look- and feelalike coma that even had the doctors and morticians fooled, and then I pushed and crawled out of the box and above ground like I’ve pushed and crawled out of every spot I’ve been in, whole and better and a lot smarter and tougher from it and ending up standing on two feet but this time in need of a little cleaning,” “And this was when — yesterday or the day before after almost twenty years — how was the food down there?” “It was some time ago — you figure it out, you’re the one who was always making with the plots and angles and complications, and you probably still are, if I know you, only because you couldn’t turn up anything better to do — but I’m here and that should be enough,” “You know, reasons have to satisfy me logically, plausibly—,” “Oh plausibly, with your flossy words, well I got them too: abomination, ridicule,” “All I’m saying is your explanation doesn’t quite make it, but I’m glad you called,” “Good, since my life’s much easier when you’re not being a wise guy, and listen, I’m sorry for the reverse charges, which shouldn’t stand you much as I’ll be brief, but I’m at a booth and had no change on me,” “No problem, glad it didn’t stop you from calling, and let’s face it, Dad — do you think I can say this? — you were never one much for making calls from pay phones if you first couldn’t tell the operator you lost your coin in the slot or got the wrong number, or even from the one at home, so maybe it is you on the phone,” “Why you being so sarcastic? and it was you who was always the big sport with our phone — calling pals in California — that homely stringbean and her kid you once lived with out there — but you never picked up the tab for it, never even asked to see the phone bill,” “I used to leave a couple bucks by the phone if I made a long-distance call and with a note saying for my California call at such and such a time, and I called from home because I was living there then, helping Mom take care of you, which was a promise I made her and OK, I wanted to do it too, and if I went out to call it would have cost me twice as much because of I don’t know what implausible justifications the phone company gave — operator assistance for a while, but when I could dial direct from a pay phone if I put in the right change after a recorded voice told me how much?” “You never understood even with the local calls that it’s extra charges after the first three minutes, and that piled up into big phone bills, but did you put money down for those?” “So the phone bill was a few extra bucks a month because of me, so what? — you knew you were never going to see your last buck and you had a free nurse’s aide in me minus my room and board,” “I wasn’t made of money is what I’m saying,” “And I’m saying you had enough dough stashed away to take care of the little extra a month on the phone bills, and I’ll pay you back everything you still think I owe you for those calls, with interest and interest on the interest, for I’ve money, a regular job, not a tremendous salary but enough to get you back every last red cent of it,” “Forget it, it’s over and done with and I don’t want to be petty, but you used to make me mad with that business and other things — my liquor, for instance, swilling it like a dozen drunken Irishmen at a wake but did you once bring a bottle home?” “Sure I did, probably more than I drank, booze for Mom, booze for me, wine, cordials, beer, soda when I was drinking brandy and soda,” “When, if you didn’t keep it in your room? — you never brought and you drank too much and the best stuff I had too, the scotch and my one bottle of rare Crown Royal I was saving for s