564
FRANK CONROY
and pulled out an Erskine Caldwell. "I won't be able to read tonight
but I'll take it anyway."
"Alright?" Mother asked. They stood for the last moment, wait–
ing, making sure they hadn't forgotten anything, sensing in each other
the precise moment to leave. Then they were through the door and
away. I followed a few moments later, stepping in their footprints
to the road. I watched them walk into the darkness underneath the
trees. My mother turned at the top of a rise and called back to me
over the snow. "Don't forget to set the alarm!" She hurried to catch
up with Guy. Moving down the hill it was as
if
they sank deeper and
deeper into the snow. Dimly I could make out the top halves of their
bodies, then only their shoulders, their heads, and they were gone.
I went back to the house. Mter an initial surge of panic my mind
turned itself off. Thinking was dangerous. By not thinking I attained
a kind of inner invisibility. I knew that fear attracted evil, that the
uncontrolled sound of my own mind would in some way delineate me
to the forces threatening me, as the thrashing of a fish in shallow
waters draws the
gull.
I tried to keep still, but every now and then the
fear escalated up into consciousness and my mind would stir, re–
adjusting itself like the body of a man trying to sleep in an uncom–
fortable position. In those moments I felt most vulnerable, my eyes
widening and my ears straining to catch the sound of approaching
danger.
I dried the dishes slowly and put them away, attempting to do
the whole job without making a sound. Occasionally a floorboard
creaked under my weight, sending a long, lingering charge up my
spine, a white thrill at once delicious and ominous. I approached the
stove nervously. The coal rattled and the cast iron grate invariably
banged loudly despite my precautions. I had to do
it
quickly, holding
my breath, or I wouldn't do it at all. Once finished I checked the
window latches. There was nothing to be done about the door, it
couldn't be locked from the inside. (Mother refused to lock it from
the outside because of the danger of my getting trapped in a fire.)
By the yellow light of the kerosene lamp I sat on the edge of the
bed and removed my shoes, placing them carefully on the floor. The
Big Ben alarm clock ticked off the seconds on a shelf above my head,
and every now and then a puff of coal gas popped in the stove as the
fuel shifted. I got under the covers fully clothed and surveyed the
