All American Boy by William J. Mann

held her knees to her chest, and she had blood on her hands.
    Regina had awakened to the sound of her mother calling her name in the dark, the way Regina used to call to her, when she was very little and woke up from a bad dream. She had the feeling her mother had been calling for a long time.
    â€œJust pick up the phone and tell the operator to send an ambulance,” Mama told her. “Can you do that? Just give her our address.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong, Mama?”
    â€œI’ve hurt myself. Please do it now, Regina. Go quickly.”
    Mama made a little gesture with her head, a little toss of her chin in the direction of the stairs. The sweat on her face and the blood on her hands glistened in the moonlight. Regina turned and ran.
    She could hear her heart pounding in her ears. She tripped at the bottom of the stairs. She picked up the phone and held it to her ear.
    â€œIs this the operator?”
    She spoke directly over the mouthpiece, trying to be clear.
    â€œCan you help my mother?”
    Regina gave the address, and the operator made her repeat it. Then she replaced the phone on its hook and sat down on the floor, waiting for the ambulance. She pulled her knees up to her chest and held them, just as she knew Mama was doing upstairs. She thought about waking Rocky, but she didn’t want to go back upstairs. She would sit on the cold wood floor and wait.
    The house was very quiet. The buzz of the electricity filled Regina’s ears, and she wondered why it made that noise even when everything was turned off. And she thought she heard a bird, trapped in the kitchen, but then the sound was gone.
    She heard the sirens a long way off, and suddenly they were at the door, bright lights shining through the windows, illuminating the dark house. Men in white were banging against the glass. She opened the door and said calmly, “My mother’s upstairs. She’s hurt herself.”
    The men in white ran up the stairs, and Regina followed, a small, slow figure trailing behind them.
    â€œGet a stretcher,” one man called, and Regina looked past him, into Mama’s room. Mama had fallen over on to her side, and Regina could see more blood under her now. Rocky had walked out of the bedroom, rubbing her eyes. A man led her downstairs. Regina walked over and sat by her mother.
    â€œMama?”
    Her mother’s face was against the floor. Her eyes were closed.
    â€œMama, I did like you said.”
    They came in with the stretcher.
    â€œWhere’s your father, little girl?” one of the men asked her.
    â€œWe don’t have one.”
    â€œHow about grandparents?”
    â€œA grandmother.”
    â€œWhy don’t you go down and call her?”
    â€œWill my mother be all right?”
    They lifted her up on to the stretcher. Blood dripped to the floor. “Don’t look, honey,” the man said. “Go downstairs and call your grandma.”
    It was only after they left, when Regina started to clean the room, that she found the wire and the bloody bundle. That’s when Mormor got there with Aunt Selma and ordered her to her room.
    â€œI’ll take them for a few days,” Aunt Selma is saying, “but Axel isn’t good with children, you know that, Mother. Especially not girls .”
    Mormor sits at the head of the table, with the radio on a stand next to her. She raises her hand to silence Aunt Selma as she listens to the end of Stella Dallas’s travails this week.
    â€œMother, please, Axel is very upset. We can’t afford—”
    Regina and Rocky stare at their plates. They are pretending not to hear. Regina cannot eat the roast beef on her plate. It is too runny, too red.
    â€œEat your meat, Regina,” Mormor says in her heavy accent.
    â€œMother—”
    â€œSelma, you’ll do what is required,” Mormor says, cutting her off. “Your sister is dead. And I’m an old woman with arthritis in my legs.”
    Aunt