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daughter.
    Belle expected Euly’s forgiveness. And, in the last few weeks of Belle’s life, Euly wondered if she was up to the task.

     
    CHAPTER NINE
    The tinny buzz whirring from the hospital TV gave a surreal, a fake quality to the seven-year-long war as the Iraqi correspondent explained the circumstances surrounding the latest suicide bombing attack.
    “Why must you dwell on the past?” Belle turned her head back to the photo album, the one she intended to bestow on Euly.
    “Me? Me dwell on the past? You’re the one passing on photo albums.” Euly shook her head and stopped talking. She was afraid she might say something she’d regret later. One of the nurses hurried past the door, the one with the squeaky shoes. They sounded just as though a person were chewing on rubber bands.
    “We’re looking at photos, is all. Can’t you just enjoy that?” Belle returned her attention to another photo. Her nurse walked in with a pitcher of water and two glasses. Euly noticed a fresh aura follow her as though she’d bathed in lavender soap. Her makeup was slight but set off her exotic features even more, her red pouting lips and deer eyes. Her white uniform contrasted her dark skin, as dark as an Ethiopian, Euly thought.
    Belle lifted her head as an acknowledgement and then looked back down at the album. The nurse’s nametag read, Artis.
    “Look, dear, here’s one of you and Enaya in your ballet clothes. You both were so sweet when you danced.” Artis came around to Belle’s side and looked at the photo. She smiled at Belle and nudged her with the back of her hand. Then, she looked up at Euly and smiled at her.
    Before Artis left she began humming a pining gospel tune. Euly listened as the song faded down the hall. She strained when it became nothing more than a whistle in her ear.
    She took the photo from her mother. Euly, at age six, was wearing pink tights and pink leotards her arms were high above her head, her smile was wide and her eyes were closed but her lips were pressed together and she posed in first position.
    With her eyes closed the way they were you got the feeling the sun was aimed straight into her faces. Her sister, clad in black, made a scrunched face protecting her eyes from the glare. Euly flipped the photo over. In her mother’s hand she’d written 7/4/1963.
    Euly felt at a loss what to do next. Her mother obviously was not going to bring up yesterday’s topic without prodding.
    “Mother.”
    “Yes, dear.” Belle looked at her daughter. Euly could see the muscle in her mother’s jaw tighten when she clenched her teeth, as if she was preparing herself for a punch.
    “About yesterday.”
    “What about yesterday? See, can’t you just let things go?” She squinted her remark in a dare.
    “Mother, this isn’t about me.”
    “Well, then, perhaps it’s none of your business.”
    Euly felt her demeanor crumble.
    Over the intercom, a woman’s voice called out in a subdued plea for Doctor Hamlin to come to guest room 17. Belle, the resident of guest room 11, would not go lightly into yesterdays’ subject, a subject Euly needed to clarify, to understand.
    “If it’s about the family, then I suppose it is my business.”
    “My, don’t you have a high opinion of yourself. Not every little detail about our lives is something subject to your understanding, Euly.”
    “No? Well, you brought it up and I suppose since you did, you might want to explain yourself.”
    “And if I don’t?”
    “If you don’t? What the hell do you mean by that, mother?”
    “Euly, my past, our past isn’t something everyone needs to know about nor do I care to explain. Except it or not. Either way, it’s not my problem.”
    “You brought it up!” Euly’s voice echoed off the window and bounced back at both women. They could hear the rustle of usual noises in the hall of the building die down.
    “Try to keep your voice down. Seriously, Euly, show some decorum.”
    “Fine. Fine.” Euly searched for