Red Skies (The Tales of the Scavenger's Daughters) by Kay Bratt Read Free Book Online Page A

around, then listened as the sound of water running drowned out his mumbling. Finally he emerged, shoving past her as he headed back to the couch. Mari was taken aback when she caught a whiff of his body odor. She wondered how many days it had been since he’d showered.
    “I didn’t hear you,” she said. “Do you have the pills?”
    He reached the couch and stretched out, turning his face to the wall. “ Shi de , I have them. They’re mine, Mari, and I’m not a child. I can keep up with my own medication.”
    She felt a flash of relief that she hadn’t lost the pills. They wouldn’t have been able to replace them this week. It was hard enough finding a doctor that would let them leave with medication, as most of them demanded the patient shuttle back and forth to the hospital to get their drugs given intravenously. But she’d pleaded with the doctor, telling him how hard it was for Bolin to move around and walk, until he’d finally relented. He’d never believe they’d lost a bottle of the expensive drugs and would probably think they sold them.
    “The doctor told me to keep them, and you know that. When you’re sedated, you don’t remember how many you’ve taken. I want them back, Bolin.” Mari went to the kitchen and opened their small refrigerator, leaning in to take inventory of the few supplies they had left for the week. She took out a head of cabbage and a carrot, then pulled an onion and ginger root from the wire basket hanging over their sink. She wished for a nice, thick slab of pork. Just once she’d like to cook something she wanted and not have to cater to Bolin—especially when he barely touched what she worked so hard to make.
    She sighed. She was being petty, and she knew it. He was sick—and they couldn’t afford pork anyway. So what did it matter? After plugging in the rice cooker, she grabbed the soy sauce and pulled the cutting board from the nail on the wall, rinsed and threw down the first vegetable and started chopping.
    “How’s Chu Chu doing?” Bolin mumbled from the couch.
    Mari looked up. Bolin was showing interest in something other than sleeping. That was progress. She went to a cupboard and pulled out a small bag of rice, measured some out and poured it into the rice cooker. After adding the appropriate amount of water, she placed the lid on and locked it down, then returned to her cutting board.
    “He’s okay. Still stubborn as can be. The man who brings the hay didn’t show up for two days but I gave Chu Chu some cheap fish I got from the market, and he was happy.”
    She wanted to talk about Bolin, and his health, and their future. But even talking about the camel was preferable to his usual silence. She plugged in the wok and poured in some peanut oil, then went back to chopping.
    “He likes dates, if you can find some,” Bolin said, and Mari thought she heard a touch of sadness in his voice. He misses Chu Chu .
    And that was good news, that he still felt connected to something, even if it wasn’t her. She wouldn’t ruin the moment by telling him they couldn’t afford dates. And truth be told, she’d been giving Chu Chu all kinds of things to eat when she couldn’t even pay the hay farmer. He’d had plants, grass, and even a few bushes she’d found along the highway and pulled up for him. The stubborn animal had one redeeming quality—he wasn’t finicky when he was hungry.
    “Okay, I’ll try to pick some up from the market. Say, Bolin, do you think you’d want to sit up and watch some television after dinner? There might be something good on the Hong Kong channel,” Mari said as she threw everything into the sizzling oil. She hoped they’d get to spend some time as a couple. She really needed his touch—any touch—to make her feel anchored. Lately she almost felt like a ghost moving through life, pushed aside and ignored by everyone.
    He didn’t answer.
    Mari put her spatula down and walked over to the couch. Bolin was sound asleep, his hand