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The Lord of Opium(86)

By:Nancy Farmer


“Dr. Rivas told me about Mbongeni ages ago,” said Listen. “It was when the other Mbongeni was operated on.” She stopped stroking Mirasol’s hair and turned away. “People hate clones. They’re mean to them and say all kinds of nasty things about them. I was lucky because my original died before I was born, but Mbongeni wasn’t. Dr. Rivas said that it was right to keep him a happy baby, ’cause then he’d never know when people were insulting him. And he is happy. I play with him all the time, and I wish you’d let me go back there.”

“What other Mbongeni?” asked Matt.

Listen put her arms around her knees and squeezed her eyes shut. “Not telling.”

“There was another clone, wasn’t there? An older one.” Matt bent down and spoke directly into her face. Listen scooted around until her back was to him. “It’s no good keeping your eyes closed. I know what happened and so do you. Glass Eye Dabengwa came to the hospital and the other Mbongeni was operated on.”

“Didn’t see any Glass Eye Dabengwa. The other Mbongeni was sick. Dr. Rivas said so. He had a bad heart, and they had to take it out.”

The little girl was shaking, and so Matt held her. He rocked her back and forth, saying, “That’s all right. We won’t talk about it anymore.” He cursed the doctor for exposing her to things no child should know. He had a good idea where Listen’s night terrors came from. “I’m sorry I asked you the question. Let’s wake up Mirasol, and I’ll take you horseback riding.”

“Now? It was raining buckets when Fidelito and I went into the tunnel.” Listen gave a sigh and settled into Matt’s arms.

“It’ll be fun,” he assured her. “We’ll get wet and the horse will get wet. It’s like swimming in the air.”

This interested the little girl, who had learned to swim in the huge Alacrán pool. Sor Artemesia taught her and watched while she and Fidelito, who’d been taught by his grandmother, splashed around.

“Watch this,” said Matt. He clapped three times and said, “Waitress, wake up!” Mirasol shot to attention, ready for orders.

Listen crowed with delight. “It’s magic! I mean, ‘cultural history.’ Can I watch her dance?”

“Not today,” Matt said. “I don’t know how good it is for her to do it too often. And Listen”—she turned toward him—“let’s keep Mirasol’s dancing our secret.”

“Okeydokey,” she agreed. “Only, I get to see her next time.”

“Okeydokey,” said Matt.





34





THE GREENHOUSES




They left Mirasol in the kitchen with Celia and walked to the stable. The rain swept down, with periods of calm between the storm cells. Matt taught the little girl how to measure how far away a lightning bolt was. “When you see a flash, count one-thousand-and-one, one-thousand-and-two, and so on until you hear the thunder. Every five counts means it’s a mile away,” he said. As an afterthought he added, “If it’s closer than half a mile, we’ll go back to the stable.” He didn’t plan to take her far.

Listen squealed when the rain hit her, but once she got used to it she jumped around in a frenzy of glee. She splashed through puddles and squelched through mud. It was the happiest Matt had ever seen her.

An eejit brought them a Real Horse at the stable. “It’s awfully big,” Listen said.

“I felt like that the first time I got on a horse,” Matt said. “It is big, but you can hold on to me. I won’t go fast.” They climbed onto a mounting block to make it easier for her, and Matt swung her onto the saddle behind him. As before, he noticed how light she was.

They went out into the rain, and the horse snorted with annoyance. Matt kept the animal at a walk. They circled the stable and then, since the storm had temporarily ceased, went farther to where he could see the cluster of workshops. All the workers were inside.

“Let’s go on,” Listen urged. “I like swimming in the air.”

Matt could hear the rattle of looms from the cloth-making factory. A kiln puffed smoke from an enclosure near the pottery shed. The English garden around the guitar factory was a wreck. The roses had been stripped by the storm, and a foot-long chuckwalla was munching petunias, oblivious to the rain.

Matt hadn’t intended this visit. It followed naturally from taking Listen for a ride. Matt had noticed that when he was cruel to someone, he often followed it with more cruel things. You got into that mood. But if you were kind, you felt like doing more kind things. He’d started with Mirasol, gone on with Listen, and now it seemed reasonable to finish up with Chacho.