Black Girl/White Girl by Joyce Carol Oates

Author:Joyce Carol Oates [Oates, Joyce Carol]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780061125652
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2007-05-28T14:00:00+00:00

Veronica's mad rush of words abruptly ceased. She'd been drawing attention. She'd said too much, teetering on stiletto heels and her dyed-black hair dragging in her face. The burnt-orange peel smell lifted from her skin. Whatever powerful medication had fueled her frantic energy, inspiring her to drive not only to Schuylersville from Chadds Ford but to

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Valley Forge from Schuylersville was rapidly departing from her, like water swirling down a drain.

The Christmas carol tape had looped back: perky-demented "Jingle Bell Rock" giving way again in a few short beats to sappy-reverent "0

Come Let Us Adore Him."

Veronica whispered what sounded like Oh Genna. Help me.

I helped her to a bench near one of the mall entrances. She was so exhausted, she could barely walk and leaned heavily on me, breathing into my face. Oh Genna, Genna. Oh help.

On this bench an elderly wispy-white-haired disheveled woman was also seated. As we approached she glanced up at us squinting as if expecting she might know us. In her distraught state Veronica regarded her with a look of terror. The woman's stumpy legs were encased in thick support stockings, her veiny face was slack and her mouth damp with saliva. Under her breath she was singing along with the Christmas carol. I knew that Veronica did not want me to leave her on the bench with the elderly woman, but I had no choice. I ran out into the enormous parking lot, to search for Veronica's car in a lightly falling snow. Only vaguely had I taken note of where we'd parked, it would take me nearly a half-hour to locate the car and bring it around for Veronica to hobble to, leaning on my arm and whimpering in my ear: "One day I will be that pathetic old woman. I will be singing to myself and laughing and crying and shitting my pants and no one will give a damn for why should they? Strangers will shrink from me as if I am a leper. One day that will happen to us both."

As I hadn't thought to note precisely where Veronica had parked her car, so I hadn't thought to bring my driver's license with me on the mother/daughter adventure. Still, I drove us back to Schuylersville while Veronica slept in the seat beside me, head lolling, crimson mouth agape. I would ask nothing further about Max and Ansel Trimmer. Never again would I speak of Ansel Trimmer. Never speak his name again to my mother as I would never speak it to Max. Thinking Whatever I don't know, is not meant for me to know.

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Sick

And after that I was sick for a while and it would seem to me that the sickness had begun in the climate-controlled air of the Valley Forge Mall and that my mother had brought me there in stealth to be infected. For my head was wracked with pain like broken glass, my eyes leaked acid-tears. My bowels were fiery with diarrhea. Yet out of stubbornness I dragged myself

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