On a Clear Day Read Online Free PDF Page A

the door and in seconds she was asking who it was.
    “Dahlia.”
    She opened the door and saw I was dressed.
    “I’m going with the boys this morning,” I said.
    She hugged me and pulled me into her apartment. “You’re going to be all right,” she said.
    “I know,” I said, not knowing. I was crying and she was crying and wiping away my tears with her stubby fingers.
    “I have something for you,” she said.
    She went to the ancient chest and opened the bottom drawer. For a moment she rummaged through it, and then she pulled out a piece of material and held it up to the yellow lamplight.
    It was a shawl, long and lacy, and white. I could see through it, but toward the center there were two perfect roses. When she placed it over my shoulders, there was a rose on each side of me.
    “You look beautiful,” she said. “Think of me when you wear it, Dahlia. Will you think of me?”
    “Yes,” I said. “Yes.”

F ive o’clock. The car arrived. Clunky. Square. There was armor on the sides. I was nervous as I approached it. The window went down and a young guy turned his round face toward me.
    “Good morning, Miss Grillo.”
    “Good morning.” The air was cold and damp. The young guy was out of the car, shorter than I imagined him to be. Asian, perhaps. He took my bag and flung it into the back.
    He looked at me and opened the rear door. I could feel my heart beating crazily as I climbed in. Turning, I saw Mrs. Rosario standing in the doorway. Beside her, a thin white arm around her waist, was the girl who had been at dinner. In the morning light, with her gown clinging to her skinnylegs, she looked like a pale angel. I waved to her. She didn’t move.
    “Your seat belt.”
    I fastened the seat belt, and we took off.
    I said, or thought I said, something about it being a cool morning. The driver didn’t answer. Maybe I didn’t say it. We drove quickly, almost furiously, across the Bronx and then south toward the George Washington Bridge. Every doubt that I had buried came to mind. But I kept telling myself that it didn’t matter what happened to me. What did Socrates say? Death happens.
    Across the bridge, into north Jersey.
    I caught the driver looking at me. He quickly turned his eyes away from the rearview mirror, but it was too late. He was wondering about me just as I wondered about him. Why was he driving so fast? Why was the car armored?
    We had been driving for nearly forty minutes when the car suddenly slowed. We were going through a small town at daybreak. We passed a park that had to be the town’s center, and I peered out the window.
    “Morristown,” the driver said. “We’re almost there.”
    Ten minutes later we stopped. There was a gate, a long driveway, a large house. The driver got out and took my bag. I followed.
    Javier met us at the door. He smiled what I thought had to be a practiced greeting.
    “I hope you’re not too tired,” he said. “We have our first session at nine. Someone will bring breakfast to your room in thirty minutes. Are you tea or coffee?”
    “Tea,” I lied. Why tea? I loved coffee in the mornings, but I wanted to fit in so bad, I was guessing what to say.
    The Asian driver took me to a room and put my bag in front of the door. He bowed slightly, then walked away.
    The room was set up for guests. There was a desk, a chest of drawers, a closet, a table, and a bed. Another door opened onto a bathroom. On the chest of drawers was a tablet.
    I didn’t know what to do, so I just sat on the bed. I thought of calling Mrs. Rosario and telling her that I had arrived safely, but I didn’t know if I was safe or not. I looked at the time. Fourteen minutes past six.
    Then there was breakfast. A black woman brought in eggs, fruit, toast, potatoes, and little packets of cereal. There was also a container of milk and a pot of hot water with a small box of tea bags. The box smelled of cedar. Nice. The black woman smiled at me, and I was grateful for her smile.
    I turned on the