She shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it," she said. "It's too sad." She looked at the television set. "You're never home for this one. I told you about it, though. This is the one with the daughter who has AIDS. Her parents are blaming each other. See?"
I looked down at the floor. I was far from an expert on mourning the death of a loved one. Until now, I had no loved ones. No death had ever touched me deeply. Even when I read about my real mother, it was more like reading a story about someone else. I didn't have her face in my mind, her voice in my memory. I couldn't recall her touching me, kissing me, speaking to me. I had no father, no grandparents, no relatives' deaths to mourn. I never even had a close friend or someone at one of the orphanages with whom I had grown so close that I was saddened by their passing or departure.
Being alone had its advantages, I thought. I could only mourn myself. I need only be sorry about myself.
Helga was right in a sense. I hadn't known my new grandmother long enough to feel as deeply about her death as most grandchildren would feel about the deaths of their beloved grandparents. Shouldn't I be crying? Shouldn't I be in a corner somewhere, sobbing? I wasn't sure about my own feelings and actions. I wasn't even sure I should be criticizing Thelma for what she was doing. Maybe it was wrong to take away her distractions. Maybe it was wrong to force her to face the reality of her mother's death.
She finished her toast and smiled at me. "I'm glad you're here with me," she said. "I'm sorry you're missing class, though."
"It's all right. I'll get the work sent home. Bernie will probably bring it over later," I
conjectured.
"That's nice. You can sit closer to me," she suggested.
I moved closer, and she reached out and took my hand. Then she turned back to the silent television screen. I watched her face. The shadows and the light bounced off it, leaving her with a smile and then with a look of pity or disgust. Occasionally, she sighed or smacked her lips in criticism. I widened my eyes in astonishment. It was truly as though she knew what they were saying.
I wanted to ask her how she could watch the show this way. I wanted to point out that the sound was off, but I couldn't get myself to do it. It was like telling someone what they saw wasn't real, that it was only make-believe.
Thelma needed make-believe, I thought. Who was I to tell her she couldn't have it or she shouldn't believe?
I let her hold my hand tighter and sat beside her in silence.
It was the way Karl found us when he returned.
8 Truth or Dare
After dinner, Ashley and her mother, Vera, came to offer condolences to Thelma. Ashley had all the homework I had missed at the end of the day, even from the classes Bernie and I shared. She told me he had given it to her on the bus. I felt let down because I had hoped he would bring it over himself. Sometimes my eyes were like windows with the shades up. Ashley took one look at me and saw the disappointment.
"Bernie's really very shy," she said. "I'm probably one of the few people he speaks to once in a while, and that's only because I never make fun of him. I think he's brilliant?'
"He is brilliant," I said. I took Ashley to my room while her mother visited with Thelma and Karl.
"What was it like living in an orphanage?" she asked as soon as we were alone. Was there anyone who looked at me and didn't wonder about that? "Were the adults cruel to you?"
"It's not like an orphanage in a Dickens novel," I said.
"What's a Dickens novel?"
"Charles Dickens? A Christmas Carol? Tale of Two Cities? Hard Times? Doesn't any of that ring a bell?" I followed with a frown.
"Oh yeah," she said, but she still had a blank look on her face.
"What I mean is, it isn't like living with your own family, having your own room, but you're not made to shovel coal or wash floors, and you don't have to wear rags and eat gruel."
"Gruel? Ugh."
"You don't have to eat it," I emphasized. "I wasn't happy there, but I wasn't being tortured."
She nodded. "Helga says girls who live in orphanages lose their virginity faster," she
commented.
"What? Where does she get the right to make such a stupid statement? How does, she know about girls who live in orphanages?" I demanded.
Ashley shrugged. "It's just what she says."
"Well, for your information and for hers, it isn't so." I saw the way Ashley was staring at me. "I haven't lost mine," I added. "It sounds to me lik