Answers, like the wispy clouds that drifted past the stars, lay beyond my reach. I gazed up, tantalized, tormented, feeling more and more lonely and afraid of what tomorrow would bring.
6
Revelations
.
The knock on my door was so gentle that at
first I thought I had imagined it. I was lying on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, drifting with my own childhood memories, memories that floated by like an old-time silent movie, the characters and events passing in silence: silent laughter, silent tears, Mommy and my step-daddy being playful, Papa George gazing up from his paper, Mama Arlene standing nearby, a soft, loving look on her face, everyone waving, applauding, arms held out, my stepdaddy lifting me into the air, Papa George standing over me as I practiced on my fiddle. The memories became more liquid, rushed by faster, scenes merged, faces were swept away, the silent music stopped and there was my step-daddy's gravestone before me, growing larger, taller until there was nothing else in my vision.
The knocking grew louder.
"Yes?"
The door opened and Cary entered sheepishly,
carrying a tray with my dinner.
"Hi," he ventured.
"Hi."
"Ma wanted me to bring this up to you." "I'm not eating anything in this house again," I
said. "I'm just resting a while and then I'm leaving." "Don't be silly, Melody," Cary replied and put
the tray on the desk. "Where will you go?"
"I don't care. Anywhere but here. I'll find work
as a waitress or a scrub woman some place." Cary laughed.
"I mean it. You know I left before and I can
leave again, Cary."
"Okay, but in the meantime, if you don't eat,
you'll only get sick and spite yourself. Go on. I'll keep
you company. It's good meat loaf. Ma does a great job
on that."
"I know she does. She told me. It's your father's
favorite," I said, spitting the wor
ds at him. Cary
shrugged.
"Doesn't make it taste any better or any worse. I
like it a lot too, and so does May. And so will you," he
added. "Come on, eat so I can brag how successful I