The Tea Girl of Hummingbird Lane(49)
I step from my hiding place. There is San-pa. His crossbow is raised. He loved me once, and I loved him. And now here we are. His arm begins to draw back the arrow.
“Cat!” he says sharply in warning.
My eyes move to my right, to where I heard the first arrow hit. There, by the tree, a tiger crouches, ready to pounce. His golden eyes hold me still. His whiskers twitch.
San-pa calls again, this time for the tiger’s attention. “Cat!”
The beast shifts his gaze from me to the nuisance who’s interrupted his hunt. San-pa shoots the arrow just as the tiger lunges. Another thwack as the arrow misses its intended target. The tiger passes so close to me that I feel the hard slap of his tail. Two bounds, and he reaches San-pa. The first scream is one of anger. But as the tiger bites into San-pa’s thigh, his screams turn to pain and terror. The tiger backs off, then playfully swats San-pa with his paw. A sound grates out of the tiger’s throat—rrrrrrr. He turns his head to make sure I’m still here.
San-pa manages to grab another arrow, holding it before him like a spear. So pathetic. The tiger pounces again. He doesn’t go for San-pa’s throat. Instead he bites into San-pa’s stomach and yanks with such ferocity that my husband is lifted off the ground and tossed hard against a tree. His agonized groan tells me he’s still alive, but even if the tiger doesn’t attack San-pa again, he will die. A terrible death. And I’m next.
With the stronger of the two of us incapacitated, the tiger returns his attention to me. His mouth and whiskers are stained with blood, but he has such a regal and powerful face. I close my eyes so my mind can go one last time to my daughter. Wherever you are, always remember I loved you.
“Cat!” San-pa screams.
I open my eyes to see the tiger glance back at San-pa. This time the hum is short. Thwack, as the arrow enters the tiger’s eye. The animal stands perfectly still for a moment, then his knees crumple. I collapse too. My fingers grip the ground. My heart pounds. Carefully I crawl past the tiger to San-pa. His guts lie about him like jungle vines. Blood is everywhere. His eyes are wide and unblinking. His last breathing act was to save my life.
Roger Siegel, M.D.
Mattel Children’s Hospital UCLA November 5, 1996
Sheldon Katz, M.D.
800 Fairmount Ave.
Pasadena, CA 91105
RE: HALEY DAVIS
Dear Sheldon,
On November 3, I saw your patient, Haley Davis, for a follow-up with respect to the management of her parasites and accompanying infectious diseases. After a lengthy stay in our pediatric intensive care unit, I am most pleased to report that Haley no longer exhibits any symptoms. Her stools are normal. Her lung fields are clear. She has not developed secondary complications: her heart is normal in size and configuration, her renal and liver functions are normal as well.
I have gotten to know Constance and Dan, who are delightful people and, I believe, very good parents. They will vigorously carry out all instructions to ensure Haley’s continued health and well-being. As for Haley, rarely in my professional life have I seen such a fighter. She’s not only responded to treatment, she’s begun to thrive. She’s gained weight and has caught up to her age-appropriate developmental milestones: she can roll over and sit up unassisted, and she’s become a master creeper. I expect she will have begun walking on her own in time for her first birthday in a couple of weeks, to which the family has invited me. Haley is very eager to please. The nurses in the unit love to make her laugh, but I’m her favorite. When she touches my nose, I stick out my tongue. She giggles so hard she tips over. Her verbal skills are coming along, but I was one of her first ten words. She calls me Da Ta, for doctor. All who have treated Haley consider her to be a bright and very cheerful child.
Since Haley is doing so well, I make no further recommendations at this time. Many thanks for allowing me to follow this nice youngster with you.
With warm personal regards, Roger Siegel, M.D.
GOODBYE TO THE TEARS
What am I to do now? We Akha have many customs, but none are more sacred than those for the dead, because these are souls who’ve moved from the living world to the spirit world. For a normal death, the ceremonies are ten times greater than those for a wedding. For someone who’s died a terrible death, though, traditions are severely simplified. Still, all dead must be treated with reverence and accord to clear their passage and see them settled in their new home, but there are too many things I can’t do for my husband. No songs of mourning will shudder along the hillsides telling everyone on Nannuo Mountain of our tragedy. I can’t weep—as a proper widow—as his family sacrifices a water buffalo, chickens, and other animals to make amends to the universe for their son’s terrible death and to prevent him from causing trouble in the village. Most of all, I can’t stay in this spot for three days and three nights with San-pa’s body. I just can’t. Nevertheless, I need to make sure his spirit is in his corpse and that both are completely in the ground, because his nature in the life he lived—and not his last moments—are what will drive him now.
I wash what’s left of his body as best I can with water from a nearby stream. Never before have I seen anything so horrible. His flesh has been torn and ripped. I don’t know what to do with his innards, which don’t want to fit back in his stomach cavity. I place a coin on his tongue and bind his jaw closed with a length of vine. “May you use that money to buy clothes and food in your new home,” I recite. I pull two threads from my skirt. One I use to tie San-pa’s thumbs together; the other to tie his big toes together. We do this to remind the dead that they are indeed dead. Surely San-pa knows he’s dead, but I perform this small act for him out of gratitude for his saving me.