422
She sits clumsily facing the waIl, as close
as she can get, and then leans forward
and bumps her head. Between the two
of
us
there
is
a certain space, a
certain
kind of air. We are mother and daugh–
ter. When
she
knocks her head against
the waIl something jumps in me, like a
memory of my own, I don't know what
it could be . . . there
is
a force inside
me that wants to be let out, to get out of
me, but I don't know what it
is.
This
movie
is
about soldiers. Techni–
color. A strange force makes the men
run around - they are shooting guns,
they are jumping across ditches, they
are writhing on the ground, dying, com–
ing to life again shouting, they are not
like my mother and me but I don't
understand the difference between
us–
why are some of
us
bodies, sitting
in the dark, and some of us running
around, our arms and legs so energetic?
But now something has happened: the
sound track goes dead. The actors con–
tinue to move their mouths. Silly. A
man in the audience giggles. I hate
this
silence. There
is
too much of it in the
movie house. I am afraid the Fear will
shape itself out of this silence.
JOYCE CAROL OATES
1969
Vince leaning forward in the lovely
fading light. Snow in heaps about
us,
cars pa$Sing slowly.... The sky is over–
cast, the sky is a few inches over our
heads. Vince says, "What are you
al–
ways thinking about? Why are you
so
