Torey Hayden - The Sunflower Forest

Silence settled over us. It was horribly late.

‘Did you have a nice time?’ Megan asked.

‘You mean tonight? Yeah, I did.’

‘Is he OK?’

‘Yes, he’s OK.’

‘Did he kiss you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you like it?’

‘You know, Megs, it kind of wrecks a thing like this when you have to come home and discuss it with your little sister.’

Megan shifted. ‘I don’t see why.’

The darkness closed in around us, and Megan grew so quiet that I assumed she had fallen asleep finally. I was very sleepy myself. Closing my eyes, I dozed.

‘Les?’

‘Hmm?’

‘Can I ask you something?’

‘I’m getting awfully tired, Meggie. I want to go to sleep.’

‘But can I ask you something first? Before you go to sleep?’

‘You will anyway.’

‘Well, you know about the war?’

‘Mmm-hmm.’

‘Well, we’re studying about it at school. And you know, my teacher was telling us about some of the things the Nazis did to people. To the Jews, you know? She had some pictures. They were in a book.’

‘Mmm.’

‘Have you ever seen those pictures, Lessie?’

‘What book is it?’

‘Well, I can’t remember its name. But have you ever seen pictures like that? Of what they did to the Jews?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I have.’

Megan was silent. I was wide awake again.

‘Is it true? Did they really, really do things like that to people?’

‘I guess they did.’

‘Mama never makes the war sound very bad. She makes it sound like, well …I don’t know. You hear her stories. Like about Jadwiga. About how silly she was and stuff.’

Again silence.

‘Well …’ and then she stopped. I could feel her breath against my arm as she exhaled. ‘Well, Les, do you think they ever did things like that to Mama, things like in those pictures?’

‘Is that what’s bothering you? Are you worried about that?’

‘But did they, Lesley?’

‘Megs, Mama wasn’t a Jew, was she? Those were Jews in those pictures.’

‘But how come she never went home when the war started?’

‘I don’t know. She was working or something. I don’t know. But it was different than with the Jews, Meggie. I know that for certain. They liked Mama. See, they thought Mama was really beautiful. Because she was so blonde and stuff. You know. She’s told us about that. About how the Nazis liked people to have blonde hair and blue eyes. Aryan. That was their name for it. They liked people to be Aryans. And Mama was.’

‘But Mama had a hard time in the war. You know it. Like she’s got all those little scars and stuff. You know that’s from the war. Daddy said.’

‘Well, who knows. It was a difficult time there then. People got in trouble pretty easy. And you know Mama and her opinions. She’d get in trouble anywhere.’

No response from Megan.

‘But it wasn’t anything like what happened to the Jews. The Nazis hated the Jews. They planned to kill them all.’

‘But what was it like where Mama was?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Then how can you say it was different from the places the Jews were? For all you know, maybe it wasn’t.’

I sighed. ‘I’m too tired for this, Megan. It’s the middle of the night. Cripes, it’s practically morning. I want to sleep.’

Megan squirmed around. She was well past the cuddly stage. Instead, she was mostly knees and elbows. She had her shoulder jammed against my breasts.

‘But what was it like for Mama, Lesley? I got to know. I keep thinking about those pictures and I got to know.’

‘But I don’t know. Listen, just forget about it. It happened a long, long time ago before you were born or I was born, before a whole lot of people were born. A long time ago.’

‘If it was so long ago, how come it still bothers Mama?’

‘Megan, go to sleep.’

‘But I need to know. I just keep seeing those pictures in that book. I shut my eyes and that’s what I see. In this one picture there was this little boy with his hands above his head. And they shot him. I keep seeing him in my mind. I keep seeing the way he was looking out of the picture. He was littler than me.’

‘Well, stop seeing him. Don’t think about it, because it’s over and done with. And Mama’s circumstances were not like the Jews’. I do know that much. Mama would have told us if it had been like what happened to the Jews. But she hasn’t, has she? So stop worrying and don’t think about it.’

Megan sighed. ‘You sound like Daddy.’

Again, another long silence. But this time I didn’t grow sleepy. I lay staring at the wall.

‘Les?’

‘What is it now?’

‘You know Mama?’

‘Of course I know Mama, Megan.’

‘No. Stoppit. Be serious. You know about Mama. The way she is. That’s because of the war, isn’t it?’

‘Megan, I mean it. Stop worrying about it. If you don’t shut up right now, I’m going to make you go back to your own bed.’

‘I’m not worrying. I’m just wondering.’

‘Well, then stop wondering.’

She sighed again. Then she wiggled to make herself more comfortable against me. She sighed one more time, heavily.

‘Your teacher shouldn’t be talking to you kids about stuff like that. You’re too little. She’s just scaring you. And I think that’s wrong. I think in the morning we ought to tell Daddy what she’s doing.’

Megan didn’t answer.

‘So just forget about it and we’ll take care of it in the morning, OK?’

Megan squirmed and then relaxed. She expelled a long breath of air and then closed her eyes. ‘Doesn’t matter really,’ she said quietly. ‘I already knew about it anyway.’

Both Megan and I slept late. It was after ten o’clock when I woke up. Megan was still in bed with me, still asleep. I had a painful crick in my neck from not having been able to move easily during the night, and it hurt like heck to turn my head. So I sat up cautiously and then tried to climb over my sister without waking her. Quietly, I dressed and brushed my hair. Megan remained dead to the world.

Downstairs in the kitchen, my mother and father were still sitting at the table and drinking coffee. On days when my father didn’t have to work, my parents enjoyed long, leisurely breakfasts. Often they spent as much as three hours at the table, talking, eating, reading the newspaper, discussing world events, listening to the radio and drinking the strong, dark coffee my mother made in a special pot. When I came down I could tell they had eaten their main breakfast quite a while earlier, but by the way things were spread out, it was apparent they were still a long way from finishing.

Warily, I glanced at my father to see if he was angry about my late return. But after greeting me, he returned to his coffee and newspaper. Mama was browsing through the want ads. She looked up.

‘Did you have a nice time?’

‘Yes, Mama, I did.’

She lit a cigarette and leaned back in her chair. ‘This boy, did you like him?’

‘Yes, Mama.’ I smiled at her as I went to the refrigerator to take out the eggs. ‘I like him a lot. He’s different.’

Lifting down a bowl, I broke a couple of eggs into it and scrambled them. Mama had turned in her chair to watch me. Her hair was loose. Apparently she had washed it earlier and had not gone to tie it back yet. Like Megan, she had extraordinarily straight hair, and it lay across her shoulders, reflecting the glow of the kitchen light. Putting her cigarette into the ashtray, she pulled out one strand of hair and twisted it around her finger.

‘Guess what, Mama. Paul liked the turquoise shawl. He said how soft it was. He thought it was beautiful.’