Read an Excerpt
Chapter One
How Abel
Smells
Angeline lay on the floor of the living room with her feet up on the sofa, reading a book. The living room was also her bedroom. The sofa folded out into a bed.
It was a book about a sailor who was in love with a beautiful lady who didn't love him back, which was why he became a sailor — to forget her.Only he couldn't forget her, but he was an excellent sailor and he fought a pirate with one eye.
Nobody tried to figure out anymore how Angeline knew all the stuff she knew, the stuff she knew before she was born. Instead, they called her a name. They called her "a genius." And even though it really didn't explain anything, everybody considered it a satisfactory explanation. Like the way she always knew what tomorrow's weather would be. "How does she do it?" someone might ask. "She's a genius" they'd be told, and somehow that would explain it. And that way, nobody ever had to really try to understand.
She heard her father outside the apartment door. She bent the page in her book to mark her place and jumped up to greet him as he opened it.
"Don't hug me until I take a shower," he said, pushing her away. "I smell like garbage."
"I like the way you smell," said Angeline.
"You like the smell of garbage?" asked Abel.
"I do," said Angeline.
She watched him walk into the bathroom and almost immediately she heard the shower running. "I bet he can take off his clothes faster than anyone in the world!" she thought.
He worked for the sanitation department. He drove a garbage truck.In an odd way, he was afraid of Angeline. He remembered the time they went into a music store where she sat down and played the piano without ever having had a lesson. Everybody in the store stopped and listened to her. It was so pretty it scared him. He hadn't taken her back there since.
More likely, he wasn't as afraid of her as he was afraid of himself. He was afraid he was going to somehow blow it for her. "How's an idiot like me supposed to raise a genius?" he often wondered. Probably if they didn't call her that name, a genius, he wouldn't have been half as scared.
He put on his pajamas and robe. It wasn't even six o'clock but he was already dressed for bed. He never went out at night. He hadn't gone out for over five years, not since Nina died. He stepped into the living room. "Now you can hug me," he said.
Angeline hugged and kissed her father. "I liked the way you smelled before better," she told him.
She followed him into the kitchen and watched him cook dinner. "Tomorrow, will you take me on the garbage truck with you?" she asked.
He sighed. "No," he said firmly. "You know you don't belong on a garbage truck. Besides, you have school tomorrow."
"I hate school," said Angeline.
"Why does she always want to ride on that filthy truck?" Abel wondered. He hated the garbage truck. The only reason he still worked at that stinking job was for Angeline, so that he could make enough money to send her to college someday. Someday buy her a piano. Buy her nice clothes because someday she was going to be a famous scientist, or a concert, pianist, or President of the United States. "Someday, Angeline . . . " he thought.
"Well then, how about on a holiday when school's closed?" she asked. "Then can I ride in the garbage truck?"
"Someday, Angeline," he said.
