dark hair. "I like your slippers."
They're soft and plush, with dog
heads at the front, a present from
Nurse Simmons. No holiday, no birth-
day, just a love gift.
Mr. Gene gives Hershy the full
treatment. As Chaya Leah holds
Hershy's head, Mr. Gene runs the
razor to make a smooth edge above
the boy's ears. It's almost as though
mother and barber are working
together, concentrating mightily on a
work of art — the sculpture of a
child's head.
When the cut is done, Mr. Gene
blows dry Hershy's hair and puts a lit-
tle powder on his neck. He tells him,
"You're a good guy; you're the best," as
Chaya Leah gently wipes the drool
that falls from Hershy's lips.
Though there are two customers
waiting, Mr. Gene takes his time. The
finishing touch is the massager, which
the barber places atop his hands and
then rolls over Hershy's neck and
shoulders. It makes a dull buzzing
sound. Then Mr. Gene picks up a lit-
tle whisk broom and sweeps away the
bits of hair on Hershy's wheelchair.
For a moment, at first glance, it
seems as though nothing is wrong
with Hershy. His profile is reflected in
mirror after mirror after mirror in
front of one black-leather barber chair
after another, and all look like any
happy little boy. From the side, you
cannot see the unfocused eyes, and his
mouth, wide open, appears just on the
edge of saying something.
Then Hershy's frail head bobs a lit-
tle and comes into full view, and sud-
denly everything is clear again.
all. The hydraulic lift has broken once
again, but if it had to happen any-
where, this was certainly the place.
As Nurse Simmons removes
Hershy's coat, Chaya Leah gives him a
kiss. It has been a long day. "Rest now
a little, okey dokes?" she says, stroking
his hair.
For the first time in hours, Chaya
Leah sits down to rest. She is at a table
that has held the same cup of hot
chocolate since ea.rly this morning. Its
rich, warm smell fills the room. There
is a sign in here that reads, "Because
I'm the Mommy That's Why," and
children's art work, prominently dis-
played throughout the home.
Photographs of the family are
everywhere, one showing a much-
younger Hershy. As his parents smile
and look toward the camera, Hershy's
eyes gaze off to the side — languid, as
of someone not quite awake, but
determined, too, as though searching
for something.
By the end of the day, Chaya Leah
is tired (exhausted, actually), but she
has no fantasies of spending a week at
the spa. A facial, maybe, but sitting
around all day, doing nothing? That's
her idea of torture.
"And besides, then I might have to
dwell on things, and if I do that I'm
going to go crazy."
In the coming months, Chaya Leah
will return to school to complete her
social work degree, then look for work
with siblings of children with chronic
ailments. She hopes one day to have
more children of her own.
In a rare free moment she'll pack
up Hershy and the girls and go to the
mall where she will hear, as invariably
happens, some parent lose patience
with his son or daughter.
"I can't stand that; I have to walk
away," she says. "What I would give to
hear my child talk and talk and talk,
or see him running around every-
where."
She'll order more diapers and wipes
and formula for Hershy, but for the
most part she does not plan for her
boy's future. It isn't just that there will
be no baseball games, no bar mitzvah,
no wedding — it's the reality that this
day, this very moment, could be his
last.
"How long he'll live I just don't
know," she says. "But I have him
today, right now. And for that I'm
grateful." 0
la
ershy," Chaya Leah says. "I
can see that you're getting
tired, aren't you?"
And in fact, moments
later Hershy's eyes begin to close.
They are on the way back to
Southfield. Soon, Hershy's sisters will
be home, and then there will be
homework to do, and dinner to make,
and diapers to change. At 9 p.m.,
Hershy will go to bed; tomorrow is
school, and another set of unexpected
adventures.
Alana and Rachel will help, of
course, probably much more than
they realize. They love their brother,
and fight over who will have the good
fortune to care for him when they
both marry and leave home.
Nurse Simmons wheels Hershy
inside as Chaya Leah turns off the
van.
Perhaps this is her lucky day after
Hershy's condition is stable, 'and that in itself is miraculous."
11/28
1997
83