Blind Willow, Sleeping WomanWhen I closed my eyes, the scent of the wind wafted up toward me. A May wind, swelling up like a piece of fruit, with a rough outer skin, slimy flesh, dozens of seeds. The flesh split open in midair, spraying seeds like gentle buckshot into the bare skin of my arms, leaving behind a faint trace of pain.
“What time is it?” my cousin asked me. About eight inches shorter than me, he had to look up when he talked.
I glanced at my watch. “Ten twenty.”
“Does that watch tell good time?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
My cousin grabbed my wrist to look at the watch. His slim, smooth fingers were surprisingly strong. “Did it cost a lot?”
“No, its pretty cheap,” I said, glancing again at the timetable.
No response.
My cousin looked confused. The white teeth between his parted lips looked like bones that had atrophied.
“Its pretty cheap,” I said, looking right at him, carefully repeating the words. “Its pretty cheap, but it keeps good time.”
My cousin nodded silently.
My cousin cant hear well out of his right ear. Soon after he went into elementary school he was hit by a baseball and it screwed up his hearing. That doesnt keep him from functioning normally most of the time. He attends a regular school, leads an entirely normal life. In his classroom, he always sits in the front row, on the right, so he can keep his left ear toward the teacher. And his grades arent so bad. The thing is, though, he goes through periods when he can hear sounds pretty well, and periods when he cant. Its cyclical, like the tides. And sometimes, maybe twice a year, he can barely hear anything out of either ear. Its like the silence in his right ear deepens to the point where it crushes out any sound on the left side. When that happens, ordinary life goes out the window and he has to take some time off from school. The doctors are basi- cally stumped. Theyve never seen a case like it, so theres nothing they can do.
“Just because a watch is expensive doesnt mean its accurate,” my cousin said, as if trying to convince himself. “I used to have a pretty expensive watch, but it was always off. I got it when I started junior high, but I lost it a year later. Since then Ive gone without a watch. They wont buy me a new one.”
“Must be tough to get along without one,” I said.
“What?” he asked.
“Isnt it hard to get along without a watch?” I repeated, looking right at him.
“No, it isnt,” he replied, shaking his head. “Its not like Im living off in the mountains or something. If I want to know the time I just ask somebody.”
“True enough,” I said.
We were silent again for a while.
I knew I should say something more, try to be kind to him, try to make him relax a little until we arrived at the hospital. But it had been five years since I saw him last. In the meanwhile hed grown from nine to fourteen, and Id gone from twenty to twenty-five. And that span of time had created a translucent barrier between us that was hard to traverse. Even when I had to say something, the right words just wouldnt come out. And every time I hesitated, every time I swallowed back something I was about to say, my cousin looked at me with a slightly confused look on his face. His left ear tilted ever so slightly toward me.
“What time is it now?” he asked me.
“Ten twenty-nine,” I replied.
It was ten thirty-two when the bus finally rolled into view.
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