Hemingway's Girl by Erika Robuck

Author:Erika Robuck [Robuck, Erika]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Biographical, Historical, Literary
ISBN: 9781101599365
Google: jWN8TrKy9AIC
Amazon: B007T8R2E8
Publisher: NAL
Published: 2012-09-03T16:00:00+00:00

The evening shadows seeped into the room. Mariella flicked on the light in the master bedroom and walked over to the bed. Her hands were raw from washing, and her back ached. She stuffed the last of Papa’s clothes into the bag. He’d requested only fishing clothes, which meant the bag was full of clean, dry khaki pants, shorts, his lucky striped shirt, and some linen collared shirts. All had fish bloodstains and rips, would be filthy after an hour on the island, and could probably crawl home at the end of the trip, but it was nice to at least start out with them laundered. As she zipped the bag shut she heard the front door slam open and yelling downstairs.

She raced to the top of the stairs and gasped as she saw Mike and John carrying Papa into the living room with his legs wrapped in bloodstained bandages, singing drunken nonsense at the top of his lungs.

Pauline and the boys ran in from the kitchen, and Mariella ran down the stairs. They met and entered the living room as the men heaved Papa onto the couch. He groaned and touched the bandages.

“What happened?” shouted Pauline. “Oh, God, are you okay?”

“Funny story,” said Papa with slurred words.

“He was trying to shoot a shark he had stuck on the gaff,” said Mike. “It jerked and the gun went off.”

“Bullets hit the railing and then his leg,” said John.

Pauline covered her mouth, “My God! He could have been killed. Anyone could have been killed.”

“’S not deep!” said Papa. “Stop your worryin’.”

The boys crowded around Papa, fascinated by his injury. He was a legend even to them.

Mariella looked around the room, acutely aware of the absence in it. “Where’s Katy?” she asked.

Mike looked at John, who looked away.

“Mad, mad, mad,” said Papa.

“She won’t speak to him,” said Mike. “After she lectured him about nearly killing himself and other people, she barely said two words the whole way home.”

“She’s at the bungalow,” said John.

“You’ll have to call her when you’re sober,” said Pauline.

The room was quiet; then it filled with Papa’s snores.

“I’ll come back to check on him tomorrow,” said Mike.

“I’ll talk to Katy,” said John.

Once they left, Pauline put her hands on her face and exhaled. Ada came into the room and took the boys upstairs to get them ready for bed.

“Now he’ll be down again,” said Pauline.

Mariella had just thought the same thing. His moods changed like the weather, and when he was down, he threatened to bring them all down with him.

“Go get a towel to put under his legs, and a blanket,” said Pauline. “He’ll sleep down here tonight, and I don’t want him bleeding on the furniture.”

Mariella got the towel and blanket upstairs, and when she returned, Pauline was smoking on the porch. Papa continued to snore, and Mariella covered him. He looked boyish while he slept, and she said a silent prayer of thanks that he hadn’t been killed on the boat.

“You can go now,” called Pauline from the porch.

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