Back to Part II: Olor de Pájaros
That night Krissy came over to Barry's apartment. Barry hadn't set eyes on his sister for weeks. Her face had changed, a new haircut, she was smoking again. So was Barry. They lit up, Krissy pulling an orange disposable lighter from a small purse, Barry still using matches.
"How's school?" Fine. The nursing program was harder than she had thought, she said. "I brought a bottle of wine." She was thinking of dropping out. "Barry, you don't understand!" Krissy whined. Seeing her, blue eyes weak behind glasses and her narrow mouth twisting uncertainly as she talked, incessantly trying to convince him to grant permission for her to become even more irresponsible, getting the e-mail from Dad, everything, it just made everything worse, remembering about the past.
Barry didn't say anything, thinking: Well, Krissy, I think about quitting my job too. Like every fucking day. But that doesn't mean I can. Work at Corrugated could be rough.
With the air of a martyr Barry produced the email he had printed. "I heard from Dad. He got hold of my new address."
"Yah, I sent it to him a while ago. Cool. Wow. South America, huh? He said he was taking pictures of condors." Their father's long absence had instilled a habitual apathy concerning his affairs in both his post-teen children, whatever its vivid details.
"Krissy, I specifically ordered you not to...Oh, never mind. No, he's down in Uruguay now. Pretty weird story, actually. It sounds like there's been an outbreak of the bird flu--it's killing the local ostriches. Dad's doing some kind of intervention for the UN."
"Yah, that's what he said, United Nations," Krissy agreed. Without a word, Barry's sister circled behind him, began to stroke and massage his knotted shoulders. Barry sighed with frustration.
"Is Dad paying for your school?" he asked with sudden suspicion and jealousy. It was all too close, too family-like. Of course Krissy would end up blowing it off, just like Barry had, dropping out three times in four years.
"Those poor birds!" Krissy said after she'd read the e-mail and download pages Barry showed her. "Rheas, huh? Is that what they look like? They're huge! "That poor man." Krissy's unselfish sympathy was almost the only thing Barry could still stand about his sister. Like his father, Barry stuck to the numbers:
"Today I sampled five healthy birds, five sick, and five dead and sent them off to the lab in Buenos Aires, but in my opinion they're all going to go," Dad wrote. "I hate to say it, but we may need to destroy the whole flock, over two hundred seventy-five head. When I mentioned the possibility to Senor Bozeman, he looked stricken, but resigned. I'm pretty sure it's going to turn out to be H5N1"
"It will devastate Senor Bozeman's business. Before enrolling in the UN program, Jaime was the proprietor of a small chain of livetock feed stores. Maybe he can do that again. His wife and children live in Montevideo now."
Part IV: Family CurseThat night Krissy came over to Barry's apartment. Barry hadn't set eyes on his sister for weeks. Her face had changed, a new haircut, she was smoking again. So was Barry. They lit up, Krissy pulling an orange disposable lighter from a small purse, Barry still using matches.
"How's school?" Fine. The nursing program was harder than she had thought, she said. "I brought a bottle of wine." She was thinking of dropping out. "Barry, you don't understand!" Krissy whined. Seeing her, blue eyes weak behind glasses and her narrow mouth twisting uncertainly as she talked, incessantly trying to convince him to grant permission for her to become even more irresponsible, getting the e-mail from Dad, everything, it just made everything worse, remembering about the past.
Barry didn't say anything, thinking: Well, Krissy, I think about quitting my job too. Like every fucking day. But that doesn't mean I can. Work at Corrugated could be rough.
With the air of a martyr Barry produced the email he had printed. "I heard from Dad. He got hold of my new address."
"Yah, I sent it to him a while ago. Cool. Wow. South America, huh? He said he was taking pictures of condors." Their father's long absence had instilled a habitual apathy concerning his affairs in both his post-teen children, whatever its vivid details.
"Krissy, I specifically ordered you not to...Oh, never mind. No, he's down in Uruguay now. Pretty weird story, actually. It sounds like there's been an outbreak of the bird flu--it's killing the local ostriches. Dad's doing some kind of intervention for the UN."
"Yah, that's what he said, United Nations," Krissy agreed. Without a word, Barry's sister circled behind him, began to stroke and massage his knotted shoulders. Barry sighed with frustration.
"Is Dad paying for your school?" he asked with sudden suspicion and jealousy. It was all too close, too family-like. Of course Krissy would end up blowing it off, just like Barry had, dropping out three times in four years.
"Those poor birds!" Krissy said after she'd read the e-mail and download pages Barry showed her. "Rheas, huh? Is that what they look like? They're huge! "That poor man." Krissy's unselfish sympathy was almost the only thing Barry could still stand about his sister. Like his father, Barry stuck to the numbers:
"Today I sampled five healthy birds, five sick, and five dead and sent them off to the lab in Buenos Aires, but in my opinion they're all going to go," Dad wrote. "I hate to say it, but we may need to destroy the whole flock, over two hundred seventy-five head. When I mentioned the possibility to Senor Bozeman, he looked stricken, but resigned. I'm pretty sure it's going to turn out to be H5N1"
"It will devastate Senor Bozeman's business. Before enrolling in the UN program, Jaime was the proprietor of a small chain of livetock feed stores. Maybe he can do that again. His wife and children live in Montevideo now."
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