‘Never ask for money in front of people,’ which must have embarrassed me — made me feel bad.” “That’s too bad.” “But I deserved it, I think, since he knew I was only asking in front of these people to better my chances of getting the dime. Since he knew I knew he didn’t want to seem cheap in front of them — stingy, that word from before about money.” “I know.” “But I was saying something else before about what my father loved to say. Liked, loved, way before, about his family. Not the dime. I think I cut myself off,” and makes the slashing motion. “That’s for cutting yourself off too. Before that bit about the wet kisses.” “What was that?” “You remember. My face in his hands. Before the comic books and comics and cartoons. Something to do with the news.” “I don’t remember.” “Soon after you asked me to play Bambi with you.” “Will you? Bambi and Faline?” “Let me try to get it first. Oh yeah. That he loved to say—” “Newspapers in the subway?” “No, that was when he fished them out of trashcans there on his way home from work when he had his dental office downtown.” “What’s dental?” “For dentist. His dental office. He was a dentist.” “I know. Did he pull your teeth? I hear some dentists pull teeth.” “Pull them out. Extract them. Never mine, but he was great at it. Wonderful strong wrists,” and grips his and flexes that arm’s upperarm muscles, “which he was very proud of. He wanted very much for me to be a dentist. Uncle Jerry too, and my brother Alex, who you never met.” She met he, she met him. “Whom” “He died too.” “That he did. And maybe because of these wrists my father wanted me to become a dentist. Maybe all his sons had his strong wrists. Feel.” She does. “They’re bony.” “But big. And forearms like his — these are forearms — big and thick too. Good for pulling tough teeth,” and pretends to start pulling out one of her teeth with dental forceps, but she flinches and looks afraid and he drops his hands. “And I really shouldn’t tell you about the trashcan newspapers. We all hated that habit of his because sometimes when he brought them home they had spit on them and other awful things he didn’t see. I remember once opening the World-Telegram, a newspaper, but let’s forget it. He said that his fathers and uncles all learned to read English, our first language but not theirs — the language we’re speaking now, you realize; the words — by reading an English language newspaper every day.” “Why not theirs?” “I’m sure they also read a newapaper in their language and probably first thing in the day.” “No, not that.” “Anyway, not the first thing, of course. That’s just an expression. But in the morning after they got out of bed, washed, dressed, before, during or after breakfast or on the subway, trolley — ding-a-ling; trolley — or bus, if they didn’t walk to work because it was near or to save on the fare.” “Not their newspaper but the language. Why, Mommy?” “Why? That English wasn’t their first language?” “Yes.” “They came from another country which had different languages than ours, lived for the rest of their lives here. They had to work right away, even when they were ten years old almost, so couldn’t go to school to learn English or not for very long. I think that’s what my father said. But that’s what I started out saying way before: that they learned English through the newspapers. So what, right? No great shakes, I know. And look how long it took me to get to it. Silly. But I’m almost sure it relates to my thinking before that there must be some good to newspapers, and that was one of them. Or was I speaking about comicbooks when I said that ‘some good’?” “You were.” “It could be newspapers too, then. But now — really, sweetheart, I just want to read this newspaper, so try playing by yourself awhile.” “You read the newspaper what’s happening?” “Yeah, sure. Or just lie on your bed or sit in the chair there. Or I’ll turn on your recordplayer if you want, but you have to leave me be for a few minutes — maybe more — meaning no noise, talking, OK?” “I can’t play Bambi and Faline by myself.” “You’ll have to.” “I can’t,” and looks sad. “OK, I’ll play for a minute or two, so long as I don’t have to walk on all fours.” “What’s all fours?” “Please, no more what’s-thats after this. It’s hands and feet, like deer do,” and gets up to demonstrate on the floor, but doesn’t. “Or if there’s any work entailed — involved — that I have to do — count me out. That means I don’t want to play Bambi if working even a little bit hard is part of it. I’ll only do it from a silent seated position,” and sits and picks up the paper. “Bambi reading the Deer News, okay?” “Yes, Bambi. Bambi,” looking around the room as if she can’t find something, “do you know where Guri is?” “Who?” “Your daughter, Bambi. I can’t find her and I’m afraid.” “That’s your job, Faline. You take care of the children, I look after the forest. She’s not in the newspaper, I’ll tell you that.” “I know. Do you know where she is, Bambi?” “I told you, Olivia, I don’t.” “I’m not Olivia. I’m Faline today.” “I don’t know where she is, Faline. Now please, let Bambi finish the paper. He’s had a long rough day running away from wolves, climbing out of ravines, posing for publicity shots for Disney Studios. Let him at least get through the front page.” “What’s that?” “Come on, how could you not know what it is? This, this one,” slapping it hard. “Okay? The front page? You’ll let me read it or just quickly peruse it?” “Sure,” leaves the room.