"Maybe," I said. I tried to think of something she could do.
"There's always music," she said.
I misunderstood. "There aren't many instruments you can play. That's the way it is." Dose of reality and all that.
"Don't be stupid."
"Okay. Never again."
"I meant that there's always the music. On my job."
"And what job is this?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" she said, rolling her eyes mysteriously and turning toward the window. I imagined her as a normal fifteen-year-old girl. Ordinarily I would have interpreted this as flirting. But there was something else under all this. A feeling of desperation. She was right. I really would like to know. I made a rather logical guess. I put together the two secrets she was trying to get me to figure out today.
"What kind of job is Anansa going to give you?"
She looked at me, startled. "So it's true then."
"What's true?"
"It's so frightening. I keep telling myself it's a dream. But it isn't, is it?"
"What, Anansa?"
"You think she's just one of my friends, don't you. But they're not in my dreams,
not like this. Anansa --"
"What about Anansa?"
"She sings to me. In my sleep."
My trained psychologist's mind immediately conjured up mother figures. "Of
course," I said. "She's in space, and she sings to me. You wouldn't believe the songs." It reminded me. I pulled out the cassette I had bought for her. "Thank you," she said. "You're welcome. Want to hear it?"