day, now that the attic was too cold to limber up in. I
threw my grandmother a quick glance, trying to read
her reactions to this.
The grandmother had no patience for those who
lost control and made waves. "Don't be ridiculous,
Corrine. All children run high fevers when they are
sick. Doesn't mean a thing You should know that by
now. A cold is just a cold."
Chris jerked his head up from the book he was
pursuing. He believed the twins had the flu, though
how they had caught the virus he couldn't guess. The grandmother continued: "Doctors, what do
they know about curing a cold? We know just as
much. There are only three things to do: stay in bed,
drink lots of liquids, and take aspirins-- what else?
And aren't we doing all of those things?" She flashed me a mean look. "Stop swinging your legs, girl. You make me nervous." Again she directed her eyes, and her words, at our mother. "Now, my mother had a saying, colds take three days coming, three days
staying, and three days leaving."
"What if they have the flu?" asked Chris. The
grandmother turned her back and ignored his
question. She didn't like his face; he resembled our
father too much. "I hate it when people who should
know better question those who are older and far
wiser. Everyone knows the rule for colds: six days to
start and stay, and three days to leave. That's the way
it is--they'll recover."
As the grandmother predicted, the twins
recovered. Not in nine days. . . in nineteen days. Only
bed rest, aspirins, and fluids did the trick--no
perscriptions from a doctor to help them back to
health more quickly. By day the twins stayed in the
same bed; by night Carrie slept with me, and Cory