“Nope.” With his cigarette hand, Selena’s brother tapped the left side of his chest. “Ticker,” he said.
“Your heart, ya mean?” Ginnie said. “What’s the matter with it?”
“I don’t know what the hell’s the matter with it. I had rheumatic fever when I was a kid. Goddam pain in the—”
“Well, aren’t you supposed to stop smoking? I mean aren’t you supposed to not smoke and all? The doctor told my—”
“Aah, they tellya a lotta stuff,” he said.
Ginnie briefly held her fire. Very briefly. “What were you doing in Ohio?” she asked.
“Me? Working in a goddam airplane factory.”
“You were?” said Ginnie. “Did you like it?”
“‘Did you like it?’” he mimicked. “I loved it. I just adore airplanes. They’re so cute.”
Ginnie was much too involved now to feel affronted. “How long did you work there? In the airplane factory.”