51 My jaw and forehead weren’t going to bulge. I was never going to grow a beard. All because of this moment. I heard the door open and sat up to see an older man with a thick beard and bald head examining my chart. “Afternoon, Andrew,” he said, putting down the chart and holding out his hand. I shook it and he smiled. “I’m Dr Howard. How are you doing today?” “Good,” I said, and I felt a sudden, unprecedented surge of courage, “but I would prefer it if you called me Amanda, sir.” “I see,” Dr Howard said, still smiling. “No problem, Amanda. Let me just make a note of that in your chart.” He made the note quickly. “Let them know at the desk if anyone gives you any problems about that in the future.” The lines in his skin seemed to deepen. I wondered how he had aged so much in six years, but then I remembered how much I had changed too. “Sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.” I watched the patchwork tobacco farms roll by. “It’s just, you never called or wrote.” “Wasn’t sure what I could say,” he said. “It’s been hard coming to terms with … everything.” “Have you come to terms now that you’ve seen me?” “Give me time, kiddo.” His lips puckered as they formed the last word, so unusually informal for him. “I guess I’m just old-fashioned.” The turn signal clicked in time with my heart as the car slowed. We pulled up in front of the Sartoris Diner Car, an actual converted railroad car on a cinder-block foundation. “I understand,” I said. I imagined how I must look to him, and my mind leaped to fill in all the worst things I had ever felt about myself. “My name is Amanda now though, in case you forgot.” “Okay,” he said. He killed the engine, opened the door, and hesitated. “Okay, Amanda. I can do that.” He walked to the front door in that clockwork way of his, hands in his pockets and elbows pointed at symmetrical angles. I couldn’t help seeing my reflection in the window: a gangly teenage girl with long, brown hair in a cotton shirt and shorts rumpled from travel. A bell jingled as we entered the empty diner. A sleepy-eyed waitress looked up and smiled. “Hi, Mr Hardy!” “Afternoon, Mary Anne,” he said, grinning broadly and waving as he took a seat at the counter. That smile gave me a feeling of vertigo. He had smiled when I was seven and I told him I wanted to try out for Little League. He had smiled when I was nine and I agreed to go hunting with him. I couldn’t remember any other times. “Heard your granny had a stroke. How y’all holding up?” “She says heaven don’t want her and hell’s afraid she’d take over,” the girl said, pulling a notebook and pen from her apron and walking over. “The physical therapy’s been a bear, though.” “She can do it if anybody can,” Dad said. He slid his menu to her without looking at it. “Sweet tea and a Caesar salad with chicken, please.” She nodded. “And who’s this with you?” she asked, turning to me. My eyes flicked from her to Dad. “I’m Amanda,” I said. She looked like she expected more information, but I had no idea what Dad had told people about his family. What if he told them he had one child, a son? I shakily handed her my menu and said, “I would like a waffle and Diet Coke, please, ma’am, thank you.” “She’s my daughter,” Dad said after a moment, his voice halting and stiff. 1 What could Dr Howard mean when he says, “Let them know at the desk if anyone gives you any problems about that in the future”? 2 Underline the parts that show Amanda’s progression from feeling uncomfortable to a certain level of confidence. Later, Amanda moves from her home in Atlanta, Georgia, to live with her father in the small town of Lambertville. Read the next extract, in which Amanda arrives there, and then discuss the questions on the next page with a partner. 5 3 Nur zu Prüfzwecken – Eigentum des Verlags öbv
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