RED NIGHTS
coin,
his
eyes flicking away. "Alright.
If
you want to
kill
yourself.
Keep the dime." He finished his coffee and cigarette slowly, savoring
the mixed flavors and the moment of rest. Since he'd stopped using
the holder
his
smoking style had changed. He'd take a quick drag,
blowout about a third of the smoke immediately, inhale the rest and
let it come out as he talked. I often made it a point to sit in such a
way that a strong light source behind him showed up the smoke. It
was amazing how long it came out, a fine, almost invisible blue
stream, phrase after phrase, changing direction smoothly as he
clipped off the words. For some reason I admired this phenomenon
tremendously. I could sit watching for hours.
Guy pushed back his chair and stood up, stretching his arms and
yawning exaggeratedly. Even
this
he did gracefully. Like a cat, he
was incapable of making an awkward move. Looking out the window
he sucked
his
teeth noisily. "Well," he said slowly, "the lions and
tigers seem to be under control tonight."
I felt my face flush and quickly turned away.
It
was a compli–
cated moment. My fear of staying alone in the house had been totally
ignored for weeks. For Guy to mention it at all was somehow
promising, and I was grateful despite the unfairness of his phrasing.
He knew of course that it wasn't lions and tigers I was afraid of ...
by using that image he was attempting to simplify my fear into the
realm of childishness (which he could then ignore in good conscience)
as well as to shame me out of it. Guy was telling me, with a smile,
that my behavior was irrational and therefore he could do nothing
to help me, something I would never have expected in any case. I
knew perfectly well that no one could help me. The only possible
solution would have been for me to stay in the city on weekends with
Ellen, but that battle had been lost. Guy and Mother wanted me with
them. Not because they felt they had to look after me but because I
was useful. I drew the water. I tended the fire so the house would be
warm in the morning when they returned.
"We'd better go," Mother said, lifting the last dripping dish
from the plastic basin. "Frank, you dry the dishes .and put them
away."
I watched their preparations with a sense of remoteness. It was
as if they were already gone. Mother dried her hands carefully and
put on her heavy coat. Guy bent over the row of paperback books
