Alice Hoffman - The Ice Queen

“She told you,” Ned said. He didn’t seem particularly angry, only disappointed.

“I sort of forced her to, Ned. I mean, I’m your sister. I should know if you’re ill.”

“Like I know about your life? Let’s face it, we don’t even know each other.”

“Ned,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”

“That’s exactly why I didn’t want it this way!” He really was angry. “No sorrowful ‘Ned.’ Don’t say it that way. No bullshit. No standing on the porch. I really couldn’t stomach that.”

Now I was pissed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m not coming home, either. Don’t wait for me. Don’t think anything’s going to turn out differently. Don’t think there’s something you can do to prevent it. And for once in your life, don’t think it’s about you.”

I got up and went outside. The heat was crazy. I felt as though I were suffocating. Melting, but melting into what? I had wanted to give my brother a gift. Do something he’d been wanting to do. A single memorable day. Stupid, as usual. Mistake, naturally.

My brother had paid the bill and now he came outside. We didn’t look at each other. Finally Ned spoke. “Am I sup­posed to apologize for dying?”

“Yes. Apologize. How fucking dare you?”

I was too loud. My eyes were hot. I really might have been going crazy. I glared at him. I hated my brother. I thought if I was left behind again, I would break into pieces. I thought about how everything came too late.

My brother and I stood there in the heat. Pissed. Sweat­ing. Older than we’d ever thought we’d be. This wasn’t our natural habitat. I wanted to rewind things. Maybe Ned did, too. He’d calmed down.

“I heard you helped paint the room for the baby,” he said. More neutral, cheerful territory, if it weren’t so tragic.

“I would have preferred red. I’m seeing some shades of it now.”

“Okay. I apologize,” my brother said. “It’s all my fault. Fuck me with my fucking goddamn cancer.”

Now he was the one to turn away. Ruin. The word I de­spised. It was happening to him.

“We’ll just have to turn you around, so Death isn’t stand­ing at your feet. Then he won’t be able to take you.”

Ned laughed. He pulled himself together. Faced me again. Once you knew, you saw it. His face looked different. Thin. Tired.

“There’s no fooling that son of a bitch.” My brother shook his head, amused. “I love that story.”

“Why? It’s terrible.”

“It’s true.”

We both thought about that.

“Well, in the story Death is tricked.”

“Only twice, little sister. Then he gets what belongs to him.”

“The Dragon’s still alive and he tricked Death twice.”

“So, we’re off to see the Dragon. Is that why? Find out the tricks of the trade? It ain’t gonna work, baby girl.”

“We’re just going,” I said. “Think of it as a field trip.”

“You’re not the only one who knows a secret. Nina told me. You’ve got yourself a boyfriend.”

“Now we’re even,” I said.

Did I sound jaunty? Did I sound as though I could make it through the conversation?

“Yeah, you get to fall in love; I die. Very even.”

I thought that the people inside the diner were in a differ­ent universe, one where there was sustenance, hope, good health. The heat could wear a person out. Maybe there was nothing I could do for Ned. I was ready to back down. Then my brother turned to me.

“Your car or mine?”

“Seriously?”

“How many times do you get to see a dragon?”

It took two hours to get up north; I drove and Ned slept the whole time. Nina had told me he’d tried chemo when he’d first been diagnosed, but it had made him so sick he hadn’t been able to work; the doctors had agreed that the treatment was doing more harm than good. He was trying to last until January, when the baby would be born. It seemed unlikely that he would.

“Jesus, I’m drooling,” Ned said when he woke up.

We got to the outskirts of Jacksonville at noon. Hotter here. Impossible, but true. The air conditioner of my car started to sputter. Overworked, pissy. We pulled into a gas station and I got out to check the directions I’d gotten off the record from the cardiologist who’d treated the Dragon. I’d begged him, as a matter of fact. I told him I was a lightning-strike survivor who needed hope. He had no reason to disbelieve me.

There were several back roads we’d have to take and I worried that the ride was too bumpy for Ned.

Every once in a while I would look at him.

“Stop that. Just concentrate on driving. Fuck it,” he added when we went into a ditch. There was a trailer and a fellow sitting outside. “Pull over,” Ned said.

He got out and spoke with the elderly man in the lawn chair. It looked as if this fellow had the same lawn chair I had. Acres’ Hardware. I guess it was a statewide chain. Ned and the old man shook hands and spoke a few words, then Ned came back to the car. “Five miles up. But the Dragon won’t talk to us without an introduction, so says the gentle­man in the lawn chair.”

“What does that asshole know?”

I noticed the fellow was locking his door, heading for our car.

“That asshole’s the Dragon’s son.”

“Hey,” our new companion said as he got in the backseat. “I’m Joe.” He was about seventy years old. Minimum. “I’ll take you to see my dad.”

“We never had a father,” Ned said as I got back to driving. “Well, we had one, but he took off.”

“Son of a bitch,” Joe said, sympathetic to our plight. “My dad is right up the road.”

“Now I’m dying and leaving my own kid before he’s born,” Ned said.

My throat was drying up. That kind of talk could make you cry; you had to concentrate and start counting right away, or you’d lose it.

“That’s different.” Joe had lit a cigarette; I kept my mouth shut, even though it would be weeks before I could get the stink out of my car. “That’s not abandonment. You don’t want to leave, so you’ll probably linger.”

“Linger?” Ned said.

“In spirit.”

Shut up, old man, I wanted to say. I strained to be polite. This was too difficult. This couldn’t be about Ned. “We don’t believe in that.”

Joe leaned forward. “What do you believe in?”

We thought that over until Joe shouted, “Pull over now!”

We did, and nearly got stuck in a meadow of saw grass. It was sloppy, muddy stuff, but I found a dry place to park. There was the Dragon’s house, a cottage that looked a little like mine. When I’d stopped at the gas station I’d bought chips and soda. A little refreshment. Joe went on ahead to make sure his father was presentable, then he stuck his head back out the door.

“Come on,” Joe said.

“You’re giving a ninety-year-old man soda pop and potato chips?” my brother said.

“Oh, shut up.” I grinned. God, it was hot. “What should I bring? Pablum?”

“What do you want to bet he has no air conditioner,” Ned said.

At least there was an overhead fan, but it seemed to be spinning in slow motion. The Dragon of Jacksonville didn’t look much older than his son. Pretty spry, actually.

“You tracked me down,” the Dragon said. “I hope you brought me something to make this visit worth my while.”

He was sitting in an easy chair made out of fake leather. A good-looking old man. Still had his hair, lots of it, white.

I held up the chips and pop, and the Dragon nodded, pleased. He suggested that Joe serve us all drinks with ice.

“What about you?” he said to my brother. Ned looked at me. He hadn’t thought to bring anything. “That’s a nice watch,” the Dragon said.