Machine Dreams

face still, her pale lips delicate as peach-toned porcelain.
    Now the screen door banged and Danner felt Katie behindher. Katie sat down and leaned forward; the swing moved to touch Danner’s shoulder.
    “Danner, you can’t see the parade sitting down so low. Want to sit up beside me?”
    “No, it’s cool here, and you can reach me better.”
    Katie lifted Danner’s hair as though weighing it in her hand. “Tires you out to see so many colors, doesn’t it.”
    “You mean the parade?”
    “Yes, to see so much at once, going by and going by.” She combed Danner’s hair with her fingers first, to keep the comb from pulling. “I remember the very first festival, in 1949. I think Jean was pregnant with you then; you were going to be born soon. I was—what, thirteen? Just the parade then, much smaller, and a shortcake supper at the firehouse.”
    “Why do they call it the Strawberry Festival?” Danner sat still as Katie parted her hair down the middle; Katie always stroked the hair apart, petting it into place with strong downward strokes of her wrists.
    “They had to call it something,” Katie said, “and there have always been big berry crops around Bellington. There were weeks when the berries rotted in baskets before the farmers could sell them. Big baskets they would nearly give away. And when the berries had gone dark and soft, the men made wine. The wine was so light and fragile-tasting, no one valued it much. It was like leftovers, can you imagine?”
    “Did you ever drink it?”
    “No, they wouldn’t let me drink anything like that.” She laughed. “I had to drink egg nogs, and raw milk with vitamin tonic.”
    Recorded music suddenly blared.
O beautiful for patriot dream
; the VFW float was going by. A huge round globe turned on a gold foil axis; the globe was solidly, darkly blue except for a red- and white-striped America on one side. The globe trembled as the float moved, crepe rosettes of the colors ruffling.
    “Isn’t it pretty?” Katie rested her hands on Danner’s back. “Looks unfinished, with no people on it.”
    “But the empty floats are some of the best ones.” Danner felt Katie fasten one braid and begin the second.
    “I hear you and Billy are going to the pool dance tonight.”
    “Well, it’s not exactly a dance. You don’t have to have a date—it’s more of a group activity.” Katie didn’t have children and her ideas of what they could do seemed liberal to Danner.
    “Oh,” Katie said. “Is it Billy’s first dance?”
    “I guess so, except for those church parties. But I’m sure he won’t dance. I mean people can swim in the pool or just hang around. Billy doesn’t care about dances—he’s just waiting for the air show tomorrow. He’s been riding his bike out to the airport every morning to look at the planes.”
    “I see.” Katie began running the comb through Danner’s tangled hair. Danner hardly ever used a comb, but somehow Katie did it quickly and lightly, pushing with her cool hands on Danner’s scalp. “You should never take a brush to your hair, it’s so fine and soft.”
    “It’s terrible hair.”
    “Danner, it isn’t, and it’s a lovely color.” Quickly she braided the other plait, holding Danner’s head against her knees and sectioning long pieces. “I’m making them tight, to last. You’ll squeak when you blink.”
    Danner leaned her full weight against Katie and closed her eyes. The white hands in her hair moved light and hard, fast. “Feels like you could pull my eyes wide open,” Danner said.
    “All the better,” Katie said softly.
    The bands sounded farther away and people on the street were a continuous, restful hum. The yelling and shouting were only sound; even the line of chairs, when Danner looked, seemed foreign. Danner watched her mother’s back, the familiar set of Jean’s shoulders. Mitch was farther down the row with Doc Reb Jonas and Uncle Twist, Katie’s brother. All three men stood with their arms crossed, in shirt sleeves. Twister was gaunt and thin and gray and drank bourbon even in his iced tea.
    “Do you like dances?” Katie’s voice was startlingly close against the other faraway noises. She had leaned down to pull the crown hair tight, and Danner felt her breath, a silvery tickling.
    “They’re all right,” Danner said.
    “You know, your father used to dance with me when I wasyour age and a little younger. He seemed like a giant then. He was a wonderful dancer.”
    “He was?” Danner