Read House of Dance for Free Online Page B

of his arms—a bigger, fatter pillow than the one he’d had before. “This is Teresa,” Granddad finally introduced her.
    “Teresa,” I said.
    “And this,” he said, indicating me with his chin, “is Rosie.”
    “Your granddad’s been telling me about you,” Teresa said, her words coming out decorated with some kind of lacy, sweet accent.Indian? Turkish? Moroccan?
    “Teresa is here to help,” Granddad said, and as if to prove it, she fitted the new pillow to the place behind his head, patted it down until he settled against it. Riot, in her wicker basket, stood up, stretched, and mewed.
    “I thought I was here to help,” I said, looking at Granddad and then at Teresa; knotting my arms tight across my chest. All of a sudden I was feeling fierce inside, because wasn’t I just starting to figure things out, and did I really need this, some other kink in my messed-up family system? Defense or offense? What was called for? Who was whose, and what was I?
    “There are different kinds of help, Rosie,” Granddad said. He was looking fresh, with a pair of clean pants on, a clean white shirt, fresh-shaven face. Better—okay, I admit it—than he’d looked with just me around.
    “I’m your granddad’s nurse,” Teresa said. “To help”—she nodded toward him—“yourgranddad.” She said it in her up-and-lilting accent, looking at me steady as a nurse is steady, not the tiniest, speckiest dust of self-confidence lacking, even though she’d told me nothing new.
    “You need a nurse?” I said to Granddad, through tight lips that stopped me from saying anything more. I knew it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to me, I knew that he was dying, but I also knew that he couldn’t die soon, that we had plenty of cleaning and sorting to do, that I needed time, that we were granddaughter-grandfather, and that came—had to come—first. I didn’t like what I was seeing.
    “Rosie.” Granddad said my name, real quiet, in a warning way.
    “I was just finished,” Teresa said, smiling her extremely white smile. She snapped shut the black vinyl case that had been sitting on the dining room table. She told Granddad she’d see him soon enough. He said he wasn’tabsconding. “Absconding?” She didn’t know the word.
    He said, “Absconding. Running off.” She laughed. Then she told me to have a good day, and I did not return the favor, and I waited until I heard the kitchen door close. I beamed my most peeved look at Granddad.
    “Teresa is doing her job,” he said. “There was no reason to be rude.”
    “You could have told me.”
    “You’re earlier than usual. I thought that she’d be gone before you got here.”
    “Is she supposed to be a secret?”
    “No. But she’s not supposed to concern you.” He settled even more deeply against his pillow and closed his eyes for a spell.
    “What country is she from?” I demanded.
    Behind closed eyes he answered: “Teresa was born in the south of Spain.”
    “Is that a real tattoo on her wrist or a fake one?”
    “Well, that’s something to ask her.”
    “How many words doesn’t she know?”
    “You’re full of interesting questions.”
    “Did you tell her about In Trust?” I asked.
    “That’s for you to do, if you want to.” He opened his eyes and gave me the look that said he was done with talk for a while. I looked past him, toward the pile of things that I was supposed to be sorting. Truth was I had hardly made a dent. I’d been sitting around, mostly, talking mostly, and there were still piles of things on windowsills, tabletops, shelves, still big old parts and pieces of whatever sitting on his floor, still a lot of stuff in the old D.L. Maybe my lack of doing had made a nurse like Teresa obligatory. Maybe if I’d done a better job, I’d still have Granddad all to myself.
    “How’d you get yourself a southern Spanish nurse?” I asked.
    “The gods of fortune, I guess.” He smiled behind his eyes, still closed.
    “How often will she be