Tomato Girl by Jayne Pupek Page A

would sew me beautiful dresses and make angel cookies. We’d cut paper dolls from the Sears catalog, and at night, take our thick blankets and sleep under the stars.
    We did do all those things. But only for a little while.
    T HE HOSPITAL SEEMED to have grown larger since last night. Or maybe Daddy’s warning made me feel small.
    â€œI won’t say anything about the baby,” I promised.
    â€œAnd let me tell your mother about Tess,” Daddy added as he took my hand again and led me deeper into the hospital.
    We passed through the waiting room where I’d sat last night. I was glad to see that the old man was gone, and a fat lady squeezed into a green dress had taken his place. The bad ammonia smell hadn’t gone away though.
    At the nurse’s station, we stopped to find out which room was my mother’s. “Julia Sanders is in 311,” the nurse said.
    â€œHow was she last night?” Daddy asked.
    â€œYou’ll have to check with the nurse on the third floor.”
    W HEN WE REACHED the nurse’s station, Daddy stopped and asked about Mama’s condition.
    â€œLet me check her chart,” the nurse answered. She reached for a metal clipboard and read a few notes. “Mrs. Sanders seems to have slept well and her vitals are all good. No change in her status. Appears to be doing quite well.”
    The nurse looked up to see if Daddy had another question.
    â€œAnd the baby?” he asked.
    â€œNo change.”
    â€œThank you,” Daddy said, and took me by the hand.
    â€œNo change is good, isn’t it, Daddy?”
    â€œYes,” Daddy said without looking at me.
    We found room 311 and Daddy pushed the dark door open, a little at first, then wider.
    â€œGood morning,” he said, nudging me toward Mama.
    She looked small and thin in the big metal bed. Fragile, too. Her skin was so white. Her brown hair spread out like a fan on the pillow.
    When she saw me, she smiled. She put her elbows behind her and tried to sit, but then winced.
    â€œShould I get the nurse, Julia?” Daddy asked, rushing to her side.
    â€œNo, no, I’ll be fine,” she insisted, motioning him to sit in theoverstuffed chair beside her bed. Mama wore a faded floral-print hospital gown with blue piping around the neck. A gauze bandage covered the stitches on her forehead. Brown dots of iodine seeped through the bandage so that it looked almost like a tea bag pasted to her skin. A blue-black bruise darkened the right side of Mama’s face.
    I stepped closer to the bed, lay my purse on the blanket, and reached out to touch her bruise. It was an ugly, dark stain on her pale skin. I wanted to wash it away. “Does it hurt, Mama?”
    She took my hand between hers and rubbed it the way she did on cold days to make the blood flow. “Only a little.”
    I pulled Mama’s smooth hands to my lips and kissed them. They had a strange lemon smell, almost like cough drops. I wrinkled my nose.
    â€œI know, it smells awful,” Mama said. “I asked the nurse for hand lotion and she brought this horrible cream.” She turned to my father, and added, “Rupert, do you think you could bring a gown from home, and some Jergens?”
    â€œOf course. I should have thought of that myself, that you’d be more comfortable with some of your own things. I’m sorry.”
    â€œNo need to be sorry. It’s been a difficult time.”
    â€œI brought something from home,” I whispered to my mother.
    â€œYou did?” Mama’s eyes widened in surprise.
    I unhooked my purse lid and lifted my chick for her to see.
    â€œLet me take a closer look,” she said. Mama patted the mattress, motioning me to sit beside her.
    I climbed onto the edge of the bed, careful not to hurt her, and placed my green chick in her hands.
    Mama cupped her palms around the fluffy chick and smiled. “Oh, Ellie, he’s adorable! What an unusual green color. Did you