Don't Talk to Me About the War by David A. Adler Page B

examination room. ‘You favor your right leg,’ he said, and I told him my legs get stiff. That’s when he said I should see this other doctor. He insisted.”
    “Oh.”
    The waitress brings us the hamburgers. There’s a pickle and a few potato chips on each plate.
    “I’ll be right back with the water.”
    I lift off the top of the roll. It’s a little burnt. I put it back and bite into the hamburger. The meat is red inside. I like it cooked more.
    The waitress comes back with the water and asks, “How is everything?”
    “Fine,” Dad answers. “Thank you.”
    I eat slowly and drink plenty of water to wash the raw meat down. Between bites I ask Mom, “What kind of doctor is this next one?”
    “Dr. Yellin is a neurologist, a nerve and muscle doctor.”
    I don’t ask any more questions. It just doesn’t sound good to me that Mom has to go to so many doctors.

12
    All I Think About Is Mom
    T he next morning, Dad is standing by the window with a cup of coffee. He’s still wearing pajamas. “The appointment is this afternoon, at two,” he says without turning to me. “I could go to work this morning and come back in time to take Mom, but I’m not. I’m staying home.”
    I don’t know what to say.
    “People outside are wearing jackets,” Dad tells me while I eat my breakfast. “I think it’s cool out.”
    “Okay,” I say as I get up from the table. “Good luck at the doctor,” I call to Dad as I leave.
    I walk real slowly down the steps and the few blocks to Goldman’s. So much has happened since yesterday morning. I just hope that when I tell Beth about Mom she doesn’t start talking about her mother. It’s too scary to think about the two of them together.
    I stop outside Goldman’s and look at the newspapers on the bench. The headlines are all about the war: ALLIED SEA ESCAPE, BRITISH RETREAT REACHES COAST, and TROOPS BATTLE IN STREETS OF LILLE. Looking at them you’d think nothing is happening here in the United States.
    Beth is at her regular spot. Mr. Simmons is there, too.
    “It’s an amazing rescue,” Beth says as I come to the table. “It doesn’t win the war, but without it, all might have been lost.”
    Now it feels good to talk about the war, especially when the other thing on my mind is so frightening.
    “The rescue is like in baseball,” I say, “when the other team loads the bases and no runs score. That doesn’t win the game, but it can keep you from losing.”
    Beth smiles and says, “Yes, I guess it is.”
    While we talk, Mr. Simmons keeps his head down. I don’t think he wants me to say I saw him yesterday, so I don’t.
    “Do you know how many soldiers got away?” Beth asks. “Not hundreds. Not thousands. But hundreds of thousands. They got away, but lots of them had to leave their weapons behind. We lost lots of guns and ammunition.”
    Beth gathers her books and newspapers. She says good-bye to Mr. Simmons and Mr. Goldman, and then, as we’re walking out she asks me, “Are you ready? ”
    “Ready? Ready for what?”
    “The history test.”
    “No! With everything that happened yesterday, I forgot all about it.”
    I tell Beth about Mom, about her eye, that she was crying when I came home, and about the two doctors.
    “Today she’s going to another doctor.”
    At the corner, I tell Sarah, too.
    The traffic light is green, but we just stand there. Today, Sarah doesn’t seem to mind that we may be late. I guess she knows how serious it is to have to go to three doctors in just two days. Beth and Sarah tell me it’s good Mom’s vision will come back and say that maybe the third doctor will know just what sort of pills Mom needs to get better. Maybe the third doctor is the one who will cure all her problems.
    “Please,” Beth says, “tell me if there’s anything I can do to help.”
    Sarah touches me gently on my arm and says, “I also wish to help.”
    The light changes to red.
    I can’t imagine what Beth or Sarah can do, but it’s nice they