put away my violin.
I was feeling very, very tired myself. The
emotional drain was deeper than I had imagined.
Maybe I was just very depressed, but almost before I
let my head fall back on the pillow, my eyes closed,
and the next thing I knew, the light of morning was
brightening my room.
The house was quiet. When I glanced at my
clock, I saw it was well after nine. We usually left for
church between eight and eight-thirty. I rose, washed,
and dressed as quickly as I could. When I descended the stairs, I found Mommy had left a note for me on
the refrigerator door.
Daddy and I decided to let you sleep this
morning. There's pancake batter in a bowl in the
refrigerator. Eat a good breakfast. We'll see you after
church.
I wondered where Grandad was. I was certainly
not in the mood for any of his hell and damnation
speeches and had made up my mind that if he started
on me and Chandler, I would either walk away or tell
him to mind his own business. My indignation fueled
my courage and fired up my anger. I marched around
the kitchen, slamming pans and silverware harder than
necessary. I needed noise. The silence made it feel as
if the world was closing in on me.
I ate deliberately, chewing hard, swallowing
and digging my fork into my pancakes as if I had to
kill each one before I could eat it. All the while I had
my eyes fixed on that doorway, anticipating my
Grandad's entrance, but he did not come. Winding