people to explain, express, and communicate their
feelings, fears, and dreams to each other. May was
born with a disadvantage and given another obstacle
to overcome. It was at times like these when that
handicap would announce itself most loudly and make
the rest of us feel even more frustrated trying to help
her and, therefore, help ourselves.
When Cary and Aunt Sara came out, they both
looked glum. Aunt Sara was dabbing her eyes with a
handkerchief. Cary looked pale. Even his lips had lost
most of their color. He guided his mother to the settee
and then he turned to me.
"It's hard seeing him hooked up to oxygen and
all those heart monitors clicking away. He looks so
small in that bed--he looks like a corpse," he blurted
and his tears broke free to burn down his cheeks. May
started to cry and move her hands about desperately
for news.
Cary signed to her that Uncle Jacob was still
sick but getting better and told her to go sit with their
mother. She did so and Aunt Sara embraced her. The
two rocked gently on the settee. Cary turned back to
me.
"He can talk," he said. "Just barely whisper, but
he can talk. Just before we left, he asked me about you
and I told him you were out here."
"He asked about me?"
"Yes. Then he said--" Cary paused, looked
back at his mother and then back at me. "
Then he said