o’clock.” She finished with the sandwiches and began pouring the powdered skim milk into an assorted array of cracked glasses and handleless cups.
Arleen said awkwardly, “I brought the children a little treat of candy. You can hand it out to them.”
Rose said, in a hard voice, “Hand it out yourself, nurse lady. You’re the one who brought it.”
Arleen flushed. She waited until the children had finished the milk, and then she carefully divided the candy among them. Their greedy, clutching hunger still appalled her.
Rose pushed the glasses and dirty cutlery to one side, not bothering to wash them. “We’re going to use them again,” she told Arleen lightly. “Why bother washing them?”
She watched the younger children devouring the candy. She’d scorned any for herself. “That’s your lunch, kids,” she told them. “After a big treat like that, who needs lunch?”
Arleen didn’t dare look at the girl, or speak, knowing that if she did, the anger would show not only in her face but in her voice.
She had never come up against such open antagonism in her life before. Ignoring Rose, she found a basin, filled it with cold water, and sponged off Carmella. The infant stopped its restless crying and was asleep in Arleen’s arms as she finished drying her.
She tried to find a cool place in the room in which to put the baby, but there was no cool spot in the entire apartment.
When she straightened from putting the infant in her basket, she wiped at the perspiration gathering on her forehead. She caught Rose’s eye. “What you need here,” Arleen said, “is a fan.”
The young girl’s arched brows went up a shade higher. “Oh?” she said. “Is it uncomfortable for you, nurse? I’m so sorry, but our air conditioner is out of order. The butler’s having it fixed. Maybe next time you come. . . .”
Arleen said levelly, “Rose, do you think hating me is going to change things?”
Rose shrugged, and said airily, “It keeps me occupied.”
Anna Luigui, engrossed in reading one of her inevitable comic books, had barely glanced up when Arleen entered the room. The baby’s crying had not seemed to affect her at all.
“Mrs. Luigui. . . .” Arleen moved toward her purposefully, but suddenly Pietro strained himself into her view. She frowned, and glanced at Rose. “That eruption on his skin could be ringworm or impetigo. It should be washed and looked at. Do you suppose he would let me near enough to him to take a look?”
Rose shrugged. “Search me. Pietro just don’t like people, especially women.” She gave a bitter glance at her mother. “Not that he hasn’t got reasons!”
Anna heard. She lifted her head and said sullenly, “Don’t go talking about your mama. I try to keep you decent. You just tell the nurse what time you come in this morning! Huh? Four o’clock in the morning she come in. What kind of time is that for a decent girl to come home, huh? Where she was? She don’t tell me. Ain’t none of my business, she tells me! Her own mama! None of my business!”
Arleen tried to sidestep the argument. She said sternly, “I’m sure Pietro wouldn’t be afraid, Rose, if you’d tell him that all I want to do is to wash his face and look at the breaking out on his skin.”
Rose merely shrugged, and Arleen said coldly, “Both impetigo and ringworm are contagious. If Pietro does have either of those, he could give it to the entire family.”
Rose said carefully, “Is dirt contagious, too, nurse lady? I know the answer to that one. It sure is.” She pointed to Anna’s feet hanging over the side of the cot. “Ma’s given her dirt to everybody else in the family. You got something to cure dirt, nurse lady? If you ain’t, you might just as well quit talking!”
Anna howled in indignation. “Listen to her. Listen to her! And me having to lay here and take that kind of talk from her. Too sick to get up on my feet and go at her!”
Arleen said quietly, “You don’t have to stay in bed, Mrs. Luigui. In fact, the doctor wants you up on your feet, doing your usual work. Women recover their strength much faster that way.”
Anna frowned and said belligerently, “That doctor ever have a baby? You ever have a baby? Well, then, don’t you go telling me what it’s like!” She moved her big bulk on the narrow cot.
Arleen said, “Would you like me to give you a sponge bath? You’ll feel much better.”
Anna shook her head. “I want a bath, I’ll take one myself!”
Arlene sighed. You tried and you tried, and you got exactly nowhere. She closed her bag. “I’ll weigh Carmella next time I come. It would be a shame to disturb her when she’s asleep. Is she taking her formula all right?”
Anna shrugged. “Ask Rose. I been too sick to pay attention to that squalling kid. Rose does what’s got to be done . . . when she ain’t out running in the streets all night!”
Arleen turned to look, but Rose had vanished. She let her gaze wander to the Luigui children, sprawled about the room in various stages of undress.
She knew there was a Mr. Luigui, but evidently he kept his distance whenever Arleen showed up. She said, “Is your husband working, Mrs. Luigui?”
It was the wrong question, Arleen knew, the moment she’d asked it. Mrs. Luigui’s broad face reddened and the small eyes, in their layers of fat, narrowed.
“You come here spying for Welfare?” she said. “That it?”
Arleen shook her head. She said calmly, “Of course not. I have nothing whatever to do with Welfare. I was just wondering about your husband.”
Anna said sullenly, “My Tony works when h& gets work. He don’t get work. Whata you think of that?”
Arleen was glad to escape Anna’s sullen viciousness, and the smell of the tiny apartment, composed of heat and dirt and too many unwashed bodies.
Outside, she stood for a moment on the cracked side-walk in front of the building. She closed her eyes briefly, having no wish to paint the picture of the street in her mind. It was already much too vivid, so that sometimes when she awoke at night she could see it.
Across the street, lounging in front of a poolhall with a torn awning, were three boys. In spite of the heat they each wore identical black leather jackets with a rooster garishly painted on the back.
Feeling their gaze on her, Arleen deliberately directed a blank, impersonal stare in their direction. One of them, a short, thin boy with his blond hair arranged in an extravagant way, gave back her stare from heavy-lidded, mean eyes. Turning to his companions, he gave a high, shrill laugh.
A tremor of fear found its way along Arleen’s spine. In the nearly seven weeks she had worked as visiting nurse in the area, she had had no sign of trouble. It was said that nurses and doctors could travel more or less freely in most of the trouble spots.
Still. . . . Arleen wet her lips and determined not to show fear. She walked with quick, resolute steps toward her car.
Out of the corner of an eye, she watched one of the boys detach
